I just don't understand why people won't let go of Cuvee Rene. It's a
shadow of its former self. Tasted like grapefruit juice at the Belgian event last year.
~jcs
-----Original Message-----
From: Zemo <zemo(a)BUYVICTORY.COM>
Sent: May 3, 2006 7:02 AM
To: CBS-HB(a)LISTSERV.UIC.EDU
Subject: Lambics: Beers Gone Wild
You know the routine...
Z
May 3, 2006
Ales of The Times
Lambics: Beers Gone Wild
By ERIC ASIMOV
MANY wine lovers tend to think of beer as something monolithic, just as
modern art or rap music seem all the same to those who choose not to embrace
those subjects. Connoisseurs can rhapsodize for hours over the minute
differences between neighboring vineyards in Morey-St.-Denis and
Chambolle-Musigny, but beer? Just as long as it's cold.
To be frank, that's a position of blindness and should not inspire pride.
Would you only eat meat and never try fish? We all know people like that,
and we laugh at them. But people who drink only wine and won't touch beer?
They're considered sophisticated. Excuse me while I chuckle.
Now, I'm not attacking preferences here, only the refusal to consider
alternatives. If you have explored beer and decided it's not for you, well,
I toast your open mind. But if you have exiled beers to parts unknown, I
have a radical proposal: Take the time to seek out and try a few lambic
beers from Belgium and tell me if these are not as complex and distinctive
as many fine wines.
What makes this radical? Even many beer drinkers know little about lambic
beer. It's perhaps the most unusual beer around, truly made in the
old-fashioned way. It is not at all easy to find. You will most likely have
to seek out a shop specializing in great beers of the world, but I assure
you it is worth the effort.
Modern breweries today are generally antiseptic environments in which
brewers seek absolute control over the chemistry of fermentation. You can
imagine them in their lab coats, selecting the proper strains of
scientifically prepared yeasts to create the precise flavors and aromas they
desire. But lambic beers are made as they were centuries before Pasteur,
when the process of fermentation seemed to be a miracle rather than a
controlled reaction. Instead of managing fermentation, the lambic brewer
leaves it to nature. Wild yeasts, along with just about anything else in the
air, shepherd the brew on its path to beerhood, converting barley and wheat
sugars into alcohol, producing fascinating and, dare I say, wine-like beers.
The Dining section's tasting panel recently embarked on a lambic journey.
Florence Fabricant and I were joined by two guests, Tony Forder,
co-publisher and editor of Ale Street News, a consumer publication, and
Jason Bezmen, sommelier and manager of Cafe d'Alsace, an Alsatian restaurant
on the Upper East Side that offers an extensive beer list. We tried 25 beers
that call themselves lambic, and if that sounds as if I am hedging a little
about these beers, it's because I am.
Traditionally, lambic is a style of wheat beer, made with a combination of
malted barley and unmalted wheat. Hops are added not for the sake of
bitterness, as they are in many beers, but to act as a preservative. The
brew ferments in barrels, like certain examples of that other fermented
beverage, and evolves into a dry, almost sour beer with a fresh, lively
acidity and an appealing funkiness. As the brew ages, it mellows and takes
on a rich, fruity complexity.
You rarely see straight lambics. Generally, young and aged lambics are
blended, and the result is called gueuze (pronounced GURZ-uh). Blends in
which the young lambic dominates tend to be almost sparkling in their pure,
tart, almost smoky dry flavors and are wonderfully refreshing, not unlike a
young blanc de blancs Champagne combined with some sauvignon blanc. An older
gueuze develops a mild, almost transparent dry fruitiness like what you
might find in a fine blanc de noirs Champagne. The mixture of older and
younger lambics causes a second fermentation in the bottle, just as in
Champagne, which creates its crisp carbonation.
Our No. 2 gueuze, the Lindemans Cuv�e Ren�, seemed to be very much in the
aged gueuze school, with wonderful raspberry aromas that combined with a
sort of earthiness. Our No. 1 gueuze, the Cantillon organic, had more of a
refreshing, younger lambic element to it, detectable in its citrus edge.
An old tradition in the Senne Valley of Belgium, the center of lambic
production, is to steep fruit in the beers, most often cherries to produce
kriek, or raspberries to make framboise. The fruit renews the fermentation
as the yeast in the brew devours the sugar in the fruit. The result is a
beer of stark, penetrating dryness in which the essence of the fruit rings
out in a kaleidoscope of bitter, mineral, earthy flavors.
The Cantillon Lou Pepe Kriek, an unusual vintage lambic, was fascinating.
Like a good red Burgundy, it seemed to change continually in the glass. The
Hanssens Oude Kriek was smooth, with perhaps a little sweetness, yet it too
had a welcome complexity, as did the Drie Fonteinen, which had the distinct
aroma of sour cherries and minerally, tart nuances. The Boon Framboise was
well balanced between funk and fruitiness.
These traditional lambics are made with many other fruits as well. Cantillon
even makes one provocatively called Vigneronne, with muscat grapes, which
has a wonderful dry, tart fruitiness.
Now here's the sticky part, and the reason I hedged before in terming all
these beers lambic. As in any community of passionate devotees, serious
debate rages over what constitutes authentic lambic beer. This debate
focuses on the most popular style, which has penetrated the beer market
right down to the deli level. I'm speaking of the sweet fruit lambic beers,
which often depart from the traditional methods by adding fruit juice or
syrup to the brew, resulting in a sweet, sometimes cloying beer.
In making these sweet beers, some brewers are said to use prepared yeasts
rather than practicing spontaneous fermentation - the benchmark of a lambic
beer. Other questions arise, over which breweries pasteurize and filter
their beers, also no-no's, and which actually blend only a small percentage
of lambic into conventionally produced beer, rather than only using lambic
beer. The vagueness of the Belgian beer regulations allows brewers to take
these shortcuts, says Tim Webb, author of "Good Beer Guide to Belgium"
(Gardners Books, 2005).
To raise a glass, say, of the De Troch Apricot Chapeau, a sweet but
delicious beer, is to enter a hornets' nest of tenaciously opinionated beer
lovers who question whether these beers qualify as lambic. De Troch, for
example, uses fruit juice to flavor its brew. Although Mr. Forder questioned
the level of its sweetness, we found it tremendously appealing, with a
spicy, nutty fruit flavor.
As much as we liked the apricot beer, both the Van Honsebrouck St. Louis
Framboise and De Troch's Kriek Chapeau had more of a lambic character to
them, with a tart core offering a counterpoint to the sweetness of the
fruit. And the Cassis from Lindemans, makers of a popular framboise and
kriek, which you can sometimes find in corner delis, had a balance to it
that we did not find in its other sweet fruit beers.
Is there a place for these sweet brews? Of course. They can be delicious.
Should they be called lambics? I will say only that the sweet brews don't
approach the complexity or character of the dry lambics, although they can
certainly be enjoyed for what they are. If you think that sounds like
somebody trying to avoid an internecine beer dispute, well, with such powers
of perception you are clearly worthy of appreciating the nuances of a fine
gueuze.
One final point: It is a lot easier and far more affordable to taste the
best beers in the world than the best wines. Beers like the Cantillon
Organic Gueuze are the finest examples of their style. Though $12 may sound
like a lot for a bottle of beer, even a big one, not when you gauge it
against the quality of most $12 bottles of wine. Tradition, terroir (if I
may say that about a beer), a historical connection to brewers of the 16th
century and a transcendent bottle. Who knew what $12 could buy.
Tasting Report: Fruity and Complex, Whether Tart or Sweet
GUEUZE
Cantillon Organic Gueuze
$12, 25.4 oz., ***
Smoky, funky and refreshing with lemon flavors that get more complex and
fruity in the glass. (Shelton Brothers, Belchertown, Mass.)
Lindemans Gueuze Cuv�e Ren�
$9, 25.4 oz., ***
Intense aroma of wild raspberries and citrus; tart, funky and complex.
(Merchant du Vin, Tukwila, Wash.)
Drie Fonteinen Oude Gueuze
$13, 25.4 oz., **
Smoky, lemony and tart; very refreshing with lingering flavors. (Shelton
Brothers, Belchertown, Mass.)
Boon Mariage Parfait Oude Geuze
$12, 12.7 oz., **
Tart, sour and funky, yet refreshing, distinctive and lingering. (Vanberg &
DeWulf, Cooperstown, N.Y.)
DRY FRUIT LAMBIC
Cantillon Lou Pepe Kriek 2003
$22, 25.4 oz., ***�
Bright red with aromas of tart cherries, citrus and wax; fascinating
complexity with subtle, dry and persistent flavors. (Shelton Brothers,
Belchertown, Mass.)
Hanssens Oude Kriek
$13, 25.4 oz., ***�
Ruddy, with stony, tart cherry and fruit flavors; great acidity, yet goes
down smoothly. (B. United International, Chappaqua, N.Y.)
Boon Framboise
$7.50, 12 oz., ***
Dry, balanced and complex, with plenty of fruit and funkiness. (Vanberg &
DeWulf, Cooperstown, N.Y.)
Drie Fonteinen Schaerbeekse Kriek
$16, 25.4 oz., ***
Dark red with aroma of sour cherries; tart and minerally, with great depth
of flavor. (Shelton Brothers, Belchertown, Mass.)
SWEET FRUIT LAMBIC
De Troch Apricot Chapeau
$6, 12 oz., ***�
Golden, with complex fruit and nut flavor almost like Turkish delight; very
sweet yet not cloying. (Noble Union Trading, Houston)
Van Honsebrouck St. Louis Framboise
$6, 12.7 oz., ***
Aromas of raspberry and black cherry; sweet yet balanced with a tart, funky
core of flavor. (Wetten Importers, Lorton, Va.)
De Troch Kriek Chapeau
$6, 12 oz., ***
Intense cherry and floral aromas; very sweet but with a tart edge that stops
it short of cloying. (Noble Union Trading, Houston)
Lindemans Cassis
$10.30, 25.4 oz., **�
Dark red with bright, very sweet fruit flavors; like dessert. (Merchant du
Vin, Tukwila, Wash.)
(NYTimes Dining & Wine Section)