L’enfant Terrible

The label of De Dochter van de Korenaar’s L’enfant Terrible informs me that this is a “special, gueuze-style ale brewed with wild yeast.” I am not completely sure what distinguishes a “gueuze-style” beer from an ordinary gueuze but perhaps it is intended to convey that this beer was produced outside the traditional Pajottenland region in Belgium. The bottle also recommends to serve this beer “very cold!” which is a rather unorthodox recommendation for a beer that is supposed to resemble a traditional gueuze. As a general rule, gueuze should be served not too cold, and straight lambic is often served at cellar temperature. Some reviewers have noted that this beer starts smelling quite odd when its warms up to room temperature.

L’enfant Terrible has the same base as their lightly smoked amber ale Bravoure but has undergone wild fermentation in wine barrels. I followed their advice and served and consumed the beer very cold. A vigorous pour produced an amber-colored beer with a lot of foam. At such low temperatures the beer reveals little aroma, but I detected some funky, floral, spicy, and caramel notes. This beer is tart, but not nearly as tart as a traditional gueuze. Tasting reveals bread, spice and, most of all, grapefruit; a very strong grapefruit note here. Unlike other reviewers, I did not get the smokey character. The finish is off-dry, slightly bitter, and short. But what sets this strange beer apart from the rest is the EXTREME carbonation. I have had my share of bottle-fermented beers with strong carbonation, but this beer dwarfs most, if not all, of them with its tongue-scraping character. The low temperature in conjunction with such harsh carbonation makes it hard to detect any subtle notes. I purchased this beer more than a year ago and I wonder how much ongoing fermentation in the bottle (and more carbonation) can still be expected here.

I find this an odd beer to review. It is great to see more Belgian brewers outside of the Pajottenland experimenting with wild yeast. Aside from the strange “very cold” serving recommendation and excessive carbonation, I liked it quite a bit. But from a reviewer’s perspective, I am a little perplexed as to how this brew could win the silver medical in the Gueuze category at the European Beer Star competition.


A celebration of sour beers

I have been reluctant to write about Belmont Station’s 2010 Puckerfest because there were few local sour beers on tap that I find appealing, and this opinion is not due to a lack of trying! I still am not aware of any Pacific Northwest brewer who can consistently produce a good consistent sour ale. I am inclined to think that this is the result of the tendency to engage in excessive experimentation in the world of microbrewing. Experimentation is great for innovation but the usual order of things is to master the basic style first. One of the sour ales on tap tasted like the soft drink Fanta, another one displayed a rather unsuccessful combination of brett and oak, and one brew could only be classified as “theoretical” because it probably sounded good on paper, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Like last year, I liked the Russian River and New Belgium brews the best. New Belgium has the annoying, but understandable, habit of producing its best beers in tap-only limited quantities, although their more available La Folie is a serious contender for the best sour ale in the United States.

One real problem for the American sour beer consumer is that even the better producers like Russian River have to release their beers with a price tag that is usually higher than, let’s say, a great traditional Gueuze blender like Hanssens – and that is after import from Belgium to the United States! It is interesting to note that the Pacific Northwest is plagued by a similar curse in the case of wine. Pinot Noir is a notoriously challenging grape to grow and the price reflects this. For a fraction of the price of a decent Oregon Pinot Noir, good organic reds from France are available at local wine retailers like Liner & Elsen. This should not be read as a United States vs. Europe issue. The United States can claim some world class beers (Deschutes’ Green Lakes, Russian River’s Pliny the Elder, Great Divide’s Yeti Imperial Stout) but I am not holding my breath for an affordable year-round top-notch sour ale anytime soon.

At this point in time, Portland’s best local sour drink on tap (!) remains Kombucha.


Jeff Sparrow on wild brews

Jeff Sparrow’s Wild Brews: Beer Beyond the Influence of Brewer’s Yeast is a major contribution to the literature on lambic beer. In this book the author does not only discuss traditional lambic but Flanders red ale, Flanders brown ale, and contemporary (American) wild ale as well. If anything, this book is testament that spontaneous fermentation and brewing with other yeasts then Saccharomyces is not dead.

After being introduced by New Belgium’s Peter Bouckaert, the book starts off with the obligatory account of how the author became interested in the beers he  loves to write about. In this case the author is traveling in in Europe, ends up in Chez Moeder Lambic in Elsene, Belgium, orders a lambic “with some odd tropical fruit” and is told by the bartender to try Cantillon Rose de Gambrinus instead. This experience, and a later experience with a vintage bottle of Liefmans Goudenband (old recipe) set the stage for an enduring interest in the wild brews of Belgium.

The recovery of traditional lambic and the movement to brew wild ales in other parts of the world raises the obvious question if lambic can be brewed anywhere else than Brussels and the Payottenland. Brewer Frank Boon reportedly said “you can’t” but Cantillon’s Jean-Pierre Van Roy  believes that spontaneously fermented beer can be brewed  in other places in the world. These answers are not mutually exclusive. If lambic beers are defined as spontaneously fermented beers that are brewed in Belgium’s Payottenland, it is evident that lambics cannot be brewed in any other part of the world. If the defining character of lambic is true spontaneous fermentation, all bets are off. And if lambic is defined solely by its flavor profile, the character of lambics can be approached by controlled fermentation with non-traditional yeasts and bacteria. In his book 1990 “Lambic”,  Jean-Xavier Guinard argues persuasively that the temptation to ride on the popularity of lambics should be resisted and that this label only needs to be used for the traditional brews of the Payottenland. On the other hand, when brewers in other parts of the world employ the authentic traditional techniques such non-Belgium lambics could help to save the tradition from extinction.

Sparrow devotes some effort to distinguish between Flanders red ales (sour ales), Flanders brown ales  (oud bruin) and lambics. In the case of lambics such distinctions are clear but the attempt to distinguish red ales from brown ales looks more challenging.  One cannot just tweak a little with another beer style and get a lambic but the dividing line between the Flanders ales can appear quite arbitrary, although one could mention that the the presence of Acetobacter sp.  contributes to the more pronounced presence of acetic acid in the reds. But reading his account of the Flanders sour ales, it seems that these beers are more vulnerable to disappear than lambics. This is ironic because modern examples of such beers are produced in ways that would be considered taking lazy shortcuts by traditional lambic standards. This raises the question of how the production of a traditional Flanders sour ale be distinguished from a traditional lambic, a topic that is discussed at various points in the book.

The history of wild brews is covered in some detail, including a brief discussion of the American Wild Ale style. Sparrow expands on the history of lambic brewing given in Guinard. As the author states, “lambic can lay claim to being the oldest existing beer style in the world”, its first written documentation going back to around 1320. The most infamous lambic variant must be faro, “the beer which is drunk twice”, a characterization that dates from the time that waste-polluted Senne River water was used to brew this sweet lambic. Discussing the practice of blending and diluting lambics, the author notes that some hint  “that the founder of the Belle-Vue lambic brewery-pub in Brussels was not well respected and produced his lambic with help from beer discarded from other breweries and  returned from cafes.”

Although most lambics that are consumed today are gueuze and fruit lambics, one hundred years ago 90% to 95% of lambics were sold straight. Lambic brewers Cantillon and De Cam have bottled unblended aged lambic, but it is not likely that this style will catch on beyond locals, a small group of lambic connoisseurs and perhaps some adventurous wine drinkers any time soon. Sparrow mentions that traditional lambic brewers consider  the differences between lambic and wine and between Gueuze and Champagne very small. Quite remarkably, the author also mentions that in Eastern Brabant the traditional white (wit) beers were produced by spontaneous fermentation as well. Fruit and herbs were often used in the production to balance the sourness of the beer. The addition of herbs has remained a staple of Belgian white beers such as Hoegaarden but the tradition of spontaneous fermentation has been abandoned.

The third chapter about drinking wild beer has lot of information (including a number of maps) about most of the major existing producers of traditional lambics and wild ales and  makes the book quite useful as a reference. There are also interesting tidbits of information about the evolution of some brewers, which often means the transition from a traditional product to something with more mass appeal (such as the reduction of aged beer in Rodenbach Classic to make it sweeter). This chapter really shines in its description of the traditional lambic brewers; their formation, history and brewing approach. Sparrow’s description of 3 Fonteinen’s unorthodox “temperature controlled” barrel stores has taken a completely different meaning since the 2009 disaster that cost the brewery most of its years product and contributed to DeBelder’s decision to stop brewing and return to blending. The United States is also discussed and includes some interesting information on smaller experiments with wild ales around the country. Also featured, of course, is Russian River, the California brewery that has done a lot to promote sour ales in the United States and who can give many Belgium brewers a run for their money.

The technical treatment of lambic brewing covers much of the same ground as Jean-Xavier Guinard’s 1990 book on the topic but adds a lot of interesting details, photos (including microscopy images) and tables.  In the case of Sparrow’s book there is, of course, also the technical treatment of the production of Flanders reds and browns. Most impressive, and somewhat of a neglected topic in Guinard’s book, is the extensive discussion of the characteristics, selection and maintenance of barrels, an element of traditional lambic brewing that requires a lot of expertise, which further adds to the mystique of lambic brewing. In his discussion of barrel choice, the author mentions the ability of some lambic connoisseurs to detect the original use of a “new” barrel in a blend.  Breweries such as Belle-Vue, Cantillon, and Oud Beersel also use chestnut barrels in addition to oak.

The technical and procedural treatment of lambic is completed with a chapter about blending, and that of Gueuze blending in particular. As the author notes: “Gueuze blending is an art. The traditional gueuze blender expresses himself using a liquid media the same way a painter uses paint and canvas.”

Wild Brews is great book for  lovers of traditional lambic.  Highly recommended.


Russian River Beatification

beatificationIs this possible to make a lambic in the United States? This depends on the definition of what constitutes a lambic (brewing process or location) but the ongoing attempt by Allagash to use the usual ingredients, a cool ship, and  real spontaneous fermentation could do it. In the meantime,  some of the beers made by Russian River are coming closer in terms of brewing process and taste.  Few, if any, American wild ales have come as close to the smell and taste of an actual Belgian Geuze as Russian River’s Beatification.

Beatification is a blend of two vintages of a base beer called “Sonambic,” which are further blended with “a couple of other orphan beers” to change the mouthfeel of barrel aged beers or enhance its acidity. Beatification was aged for 8 to 15 months in old Oak Barrels (at least 5 years according to Russian River’s website) which impart little wine or oak notes to the beer. Its “spontaneous” character lies in the wild yeasts and bacteria which inhabit the barrels.  This method comes a lot closer to traditional lambic brewing than just adding a lambic or Flanders Red culture to the beer. Like traditional Geuze, Beatification undergoes a secondary fermentation in the bottle, which, as all the Russian River wild ale bottles, feature restrained and beautiful labels.

Because we did not have an opportunity to try this until a family member from California visited us, the beer that we tasted may have benefited from further aging after it was purchased in 2008.

The following notes were taken on Thursday, August 27, 2009:

Batch 003. 750 ml. Poured into a Cantillon Geuze glass.

Upon uncorking — lots of carbonation, foam came over the lip of the bottle.

Appearance: When pouring, half a finger of head which dissipated quickly. Blond / yellow beer, opaque.

Smell: Smells like a traditional Geuze. Cannot recall any American beer that smells so much like a lambic/Geuze. Brett, citrus (lemon), wheat.

Taste: Very tart, with a smooth finish. One of the strongest lemon notes I have ever tasted in a beer. Wheat. Alcohol is not very noticeable. A slight grapefruit note develops as it gets warmer.

Mouthfeel: Light. Moderate carbonation (just the right amount). Some astringency.

Drinkability: Extremely drinkable. Perhaps it is a good thing that the price prevents excessive consumption! A perfect beer to drink outside in warm weather.

One difference between Beatification and Geuze lambic that I detected is the reduced complexity in taste. In this case I am wondering whether this should be considered a defect because the bone dry and lemon-like taste is exceptional.   There are more complex Russian River wild ales but Beatification simply blows them away.  There is something to be said for alcoholic beverages that simply feature flawless execution of a specific flavor. More than one reviewer has compared Beatification to a very dry, tart white wine. In light of my preference for the dry and concentrated white wines from the Alsace region in France, this characterization does not surprise me.

Since this beer was so close in taste to a traditional Geuze it would be interesting to  use an analytical chemistry technique like chromatography on this beer to determine its chemical profile and compare it to traditional lambics and other wild ales.

After tasting Beatification there is no doubt in my mind that Americans can compete with the best traditional Lambic brewers if  instant gratification is suppressed and the temptation to sweeten the beer, the use of new oak , and excessive carbonation is discouraged. All these pitfalls have been avoided in Beatification.

Of all the wild ales that are currently available in the United States, Beatification ranks among the best.

Upon uncorking — lots of carbonation, foam came over the lip of the bottle

Appearance: When pouring, half a finger of head which dissapated quickly. Blond / yellow beer (rich in color), but opaque. Looks a little carbonated.

Smell: Smells like a gueze! Cannot recall any American beer that smells so much like a lambic/gueze. Bretts, citrus (lemon), wheat.

Taste: Tart, with a smooth finish. One of the strongest lemon notes ever tasted in a beer. Less complex than Belgian lambics, but it’s not a bad thing. Alcohol is not very noticeable. Gets more bitter as it gets warmer

Mouthfeel: Light/medium (medium on the light side). Moderate carbonation (just the right amount). Somewhat astringent.


Lambic beer in Portland Oregon

Portland, Oregon, is considered one of the greatest, if not THE greatest, beer city in the United States. Even the average neighborhood deli or gas station has a greater selection of craft beers than the average supermarket in other cities.  Many people here have a healthy dislike of mass produced lagers and not a week goes by without interesting beer events. And, as can be expected, Portland brewers also have a strong commitment to organic brewing, as evidenced by brewpubs such as Hopworks and Roots.  So if Portland is Beervana, should it be easier to locate and drink traditional Belgium lambics in this town?

The answer to this question is YES. As I document in the The Portland Oregon Guide to Lambic and Gueuze Beers, there are quite a number of beer stores and pubs that sell traditional lambics.  To my knowledge all traditional Belgian lambic brews can be found in Portland with the exception of De Cam but this should not be surprising because to date De Cam is not available in the US at all. A lot rarer is finding traditional lambic on tap, but it occasionally happens, especially during the annual “Puckerfest” at Belmont Station. As a general rule, expect to pay for lambics in Portland. This does not only reflect the obvious fact that lambics need to be imported, but also the labor- and time-consuming  process of traditional lambic brewing itself, which further increases price.

Is Portland a great location for locally produced wild ales? In my opinion, NOT YET. Portland does not have the equivalent of a Russian River or Allagash brewery. To the extent that sour ales are produced in Portland they often are expensive one time seasonal experiments, stray too far from tradition, or leave the brewer with too much residual sugar. Although one cannot expect a Portland brewer to produce a traditional product like Cantillon Lou Pepe Gueuze without extensive knowledge, skill, and most of all, patience, there is no reason to assume there could not be a market for such beers in Oregon. And, like California, Oregon also has a strong wine culture and it is well established that traditional lambics are often found more appealing by wine drinkers than by beer drinkers.

Like traditional lambic, The Portland Oregon Guide to Lambic and Gueuze Beers is ALIVE. Please contact the author with updates, corrections, or information about events: lambicandwildaleATgmail.com