Rodenbach Brewing has been around in one form or another for almost 200 years, and by goodness they've figured out what the heck it is they're doing. Even Palm Brewing buying them in 1998 probably didn't even put much of a hiccup in the process, because this stuff is just damned good.
Rodenbach Grand Cru, according to the bottle, consists of 33% "young" ale, with the rest being no less than 2 years old, having aged in oak barrels during maturation. I found this blending to be intriguing, as it reminds me of so many of my beloved whiskys. I'm not really familiar with Flanders Red Ales, but something tells me I'm going to become more familiar now. It's a 6% beer, so it could be sold in our grocery and convenience stores here in Tennessee. I can't see the local Food City removing Natty Light just to make room for some frou-frou foreign beer that ain't in cans, but a guy can dream.
As I pulled the cage off of the cork I noted that the cork looked a bit musty. Not bad, but musty. Like a cork that has sat in a cellar for quite a while, though it hasn't been in my cellar for more than a couple of months. I saw this as a portent of bad things to come, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The date on the bottle is 05-11-15, so I'm assuming the brewer would rather this beer be consumed before November 5, 2015, given European date nomenclature.
Picking up the cold 750 ml bottle and working the stopper, I was surprised when the cork blew off in my hand quite easily, which I would ascribe to the fact that it is the strangest champagne-style cork I've ever seen. I am not accustomed to them being as short as the one in the picture. When it initially popped I looked at it and then picked up the bottle, afraid that the rest had broken off in the bottle. It hadn't. It's just stubby. It's the cutest little mushroom-looking thingy you'll find in your cork jar ever. At least I hope it is.
When I pour a Belgian I'm oftentimes afraid that the head will be overwhelming. It's a hit or miss situation, but I'm always careful. There was no chance of this happening, I quickly realized. Grand Cru pours in an almost-watery stream, with not much body, creating a very small, finely-bubbled head. This thin head disappears quickly, leaving behind a dark ruby-colored liquid punctuated by very tiny champagne-like carbonation bubbles rising to the surface.
Putting the glass up to my nose I was immediately hit with cherry and vinegar notes. It was almost overwhelming, tickling my sinus cavities like an effervescent feather duster and making me sneeze. Little bubbles found their way up into my brain and made my eyes water, but I likened them to tears of joy. I'd found a good one. No doubts at that point.
I raised Brew Dog Abstrakt snifter to my lips and the crisp liquid trickled onto my tongue. It jumped in confusion and, eventually, joy. Sour, sour, sour at first and then the vinegar kicked in. The crispness of the brew reminded me of a nice dry champagne mixed with unsweetened pomegranate and cherry juices, with very little heaviness or oiliness coating my mouth. After the first few sips my taste buds became accustomed to the tartness and started to enjoy everything else about this beer. As it warmed up it became mildly peppery and woody, with a distinct wine note, like an oaked Chardonnay, but without the overall flavor of Chardonnay.
The finish iwas just as delightful as the nose and initial sip. I was left with a lingering taste in my mouth of sour cherries and rock candy, and was taken back to cherry cough drops for some reason, though this was lacking the tongue numbing qualities of those cough drops of my yoot. It's actually a very nostalgic flavor for me, and something I will definitely have to revisit.
Upon completion, the glass I used showed absolutely no lacing whatsoever. It was as if the beer hadn't even been there. But it had, and I'll always remember my first pour.
Edit: The Beer Hunter himself, Michael Jackson, called it "The Most Refreshing Beer In The World." I'm not sure I would disagree. This is a great one. I wouldn't hesitate to serve it in champagne glasses for my wine snob, non-beer-drinking friends, and I would definitely ring in a new year with a flute or three. I only hope I can find more of it soon to set back for special celebrations.
