Rodenbach Sour and Grand Cru

The story of Rodenbach is prefaced by the eternal voice of the late Michael Jackson, legendary beer writer.

Of Rodenbach's Grand Cru, Jackson proclaims, "this individual product is the most refreshing beer in the world;" and his words are not often taken lightly in the beer community - Jackson is regarded as one of the most respected opinions to have ever graced the world of great beer.

The rich brewing tradition at Rodenbach dates back to its foundation in 1821, when four brothers invested in a small brewery in the West Flanders region of Belgium.

The partnership lasted for 15 years, until Pedro Rodenbach (one of the four) bought the brewery outright, and his son Edward ultimately oversaw the business into its most successful years. [Wikipedia]

It is Edward's son Eugene who is credited for developing Rodenbach's brewing technique. An informative article from the 1996 Lambic Digest #846 tells us how Rodenbach's signature sour ale came to be:

Eugene learned the job of brewer around 1860 in northern England. Returning to Rodenbach he copied two things he had seen: the kiln construction, but still more important is the way of making beer.

During the time he was in England, a pub could buy fresh beer in a brewery. But there were traders who kept the beer for some years stored, and sold it for the double of the price. Visitors to a pub could drink the young or the old ale, or ask the bartender to blend both in a certain amount.

Eugene was the visionary to apply this blending technique directly at the source, and thus a lucrative opportunity was born for Rodenbach. Even though the brewery is now owned by Palm, the blending of old and young oak-aged ales remains the method for producing Rodenbach's classic Flemish Sour as well as their Grand Cru.

The Anatomy of a Sour Ale

The unfortunate thing about sour ale is that even after hundreds of years of brewing tradition it remains a rare, misunderstood and unpopular style. Even the above-mentioned article from the Lambic Digest explains that while the regular enjoyment of sours is popular in the immediate surround of the Rodenbach brewery, complaints are common from areas as close as only 40km from the site.

The flavors of a sour are so incredibly unique and unfamiliar, patrons often think their beer has spoiled. We should hope that at least in the 12 years from which that aforementioned article was written, complaints from the near-locals have diminished - but the consensus on sours remains mixed here in the states, so we shouldn't find surprising if the style hasn't grown exponentially in popularity.

Rodenbach's sours are the most identifiable - that is, they occupy the largest market share and they are comprehensively exhibitive of the style's inherent complexities. In terms of Flanders Red, Rodenbach essentially sets the bar - there aren't all that many players in sour ale circuit, and fans of sours whom I've met tend to recommended the Rodenbachs.

All things considered, however, there aren't any other sours that taste exactly like Rodenbach - so one's impression of these beers should not necessarily dictate his or her opinion of other brews in the same style. I suppose that's a solid piece of advice for any beer. It seemed only appropriate to discuss both the classic Flemish Sour and the Grand Cru in a single article because, while they are inherently different beers, they are basically of the same DNA. The initial conception of these brews begins with water from a private source behind the Rodenbach grounds, with which two similar worts are created - one slightly denser than the other. The secret to the souring process is actually the addition of lactobacilli bacteria to the yeast culture. Wikipedia reminds us we know lactobacilli as being present in the human gastrointestinal tract, and as employed in food production:

Some Lactobacillus species are used industrially for the production of yogurt, cheese, sauerkraut, pickles, beer, wine, cider, kimchi, chocolate, and other fermented foods, as well as animal feeds, such as silage. Sourdough bread is made using a "starter culture," which is a symbiotic culture of yeast and lactic acid bacteria growing in a water and flour medium. Lactobacilli, especially L. casei and L. brevis, are some of the most common beer spoilage organisms.

Note - the same organism that spoils beer is actually used in careful balances to create these sours. The beer is, in a sense, intentionally spoiled in a controlled environment.

The precise bacteria and yeast mixture must be maintained in large quantities in order to keep it alive, and the brewer is able to reuse a good portion of it with each session. Rodenbach has been known to supply smaller brewers with the mixture to aid them in the production of smaller-batch sours, as it is a difficult to synthesize the properly balanced composition.

This yeast solution is added to the brews as they ferment for a couple of months, and then the slightly denser solution is transferred to huge oaken barrels to age for at least eighteen months more. In these barrels, a slower-developing yeast comes to life: Brettanomyces.

Brett, as it is many times called in short, is often attributed to unwanted or off-flavors in beer, but it provides a desired characteristic to these beers. Andy at Beer a Day tells us a little of his first experiences with the 'funky' Belgian Brett smells and flavors in his reviews of Orval, Girardin Gueuze and Monk’s Cafe Flemish Sour.

All of the above represent intentional uses of Brett as a brewing component, as do as many of the beers of Cantillon and Jolly Pumpkin. From what I understand of Rodenbach's process, some of their barrels vary in size, and the aged brew must be sampled periodically by the brewer until it has reached desired maturity. The aged beer is then blended with the younger to create the Flemeish Sour and Grand Cru. The classic Flemish Sour is 75% young and 25% aged ale and (I believe) the Grand Cru contains only about one-third (33%) young ale and two-thirds (67%) aged ale.

Experience

My wife and I have had both brews on tap and in the bottle, and while I am on the fence about which I prefer, she tends to gravitate toward the classic sour ale. From beer to beer we have witnessed extreme differences, so it took us several attempts to finalize our conclusion, but in all cases the Grand Cru is the more intense of the two. As a change in format, below are my raw 'live' tasting notes from my most recent sampling, the Flemish Sour Ale.

Appear: Reddish brown, minimal off-white head, quickly recedes to a film sprawling the surface of the beer.

Smell: Vinegar, sour cherries, plum, socks (?). Somewhat sour on the nose, particularly as the beer warms.

Mouth: Very highly carbonated like soda water, tingles the tongue. Medium to light-bodied, a little watery.

Taste: Gentle sweet-tart up front, flat/neutral mid palette, a finish that sneaks up with intense sour on the back of the tongue at first sip. With each successive sip the sour sensation is less jarring. There are subtle fruit characteristics throughout, mostly reminiscent of sour cherries, but never overtaken by fruit flavor, only hinted.

There is a curious dry quality that dominates the mid-palette, almost neutralizing flavors for a moment before the sour sneaks back up. Traditional malt and hop qualities identifiable in other brews are not present here (save a little bit of a caramel-like maltiness at the end), this is a beer by definition only - it exists in a class of its own.

Finish: The finish showcases the heavy oak character and a earns the sour name. The flavors are an acquired taste, not easily accessible and a tad vinegary - likely to draw a second guess if not an adversarial wince from the unsuspecting imbiber.

Final Thoughts

I mentioned in the Nora post that the drinker may question if the beer has gone bad, and such is the case with these sour ales. I've heard the flavors of these ales described as metallic but I think 'tanniny' is a better descriptor, as the beer triggers the kind of unnatural salivary reaction one would expect from the sensation of a battery on the tongue (not a recommended trick).

The end result is, ironically, harmoniously thirst-inducing. I love both of these beers. While my notes are of the classic Flanders Red, they would read similarly for the Grand Cru- except the neutral-mid palate impression is removed by the intense semi-sweet, tart flavor of sour cherries carrying through to the finish. The word 'sour' better describes the flavor of the Grand Cru than the classic, but is a little misleading in either case, as 'tart' is more appropriate.

I recently described the Grand Cru to a friend using cranberry juice as a comparative measure of tartness; and while these ales may have more in common with cranberry juice and vinegar than they do with other beers, the naturally occurring sweet and sour flavors are contributed without the use of fruit in the brewing process- an important note, so as not to mislead the drinker on first impressions.

I don't think a literary description of this beer can do justice to its complexity, nor prepare the inexperienced beer-curious imbiber for what cannot be compared to other styles of beer. Trying either of these beers will bring this point to life almost immediately.

Belgium - 5.1% ABV (Classic) 6% ABV (Grand Cru)

Brouwerij Rodenbach [website]

Flanders Red / Flemish Sour Ale