Leaf and Ale was one of my favorite shops to hang out in. Their primary sales were cigars, and they had a decent selection of pipes and tobaccos. Their beer selection was always interesting. Mike, the owner, was passionate about what he did, and he surrounded himself with lots of other people who enjoyed what they did too. They could seem a little gruff and terse at times, but once you got to know them, they were great.
The same regulars could be found in the shop day after day, sitting in their usual leather chairs, which were arranged much like a round table, if King Arthur had done without a table, and had the leather easy chairs set in a rectangle. Sports or news were always on the TV, but nobody cared. The sound was muted, and that's the way they liked it. The banter would bounce from sports, to politics, to their military days, to whose daughter was out with whose son the night before. Usual stuff.
I would go in, peruse the pipe tobaccos, buy a tin of something new and then find a seat within that circle. The grizzled old timers would look at me as if to say, "What the hell are you doing? You probably don't even *know* who Eisenhower was. How the hell are we going to have a discussion about politics and the war with you sitting here?"
But then I would pull out a pipe that I had lovingly restored, pack a nice smokey English and fire it up. The conversation would immediately turn to my pipe and/or my tobacco, and through that we would find a common ground. I eventually was grudgingly accepted by that inner circle, and I grew to enjoy my evenings there, making a few friends.
That shop has since closed. Mike has moved on to something in the financial world. Somebody tried to reopen the store but it was a dim shadow of the past and it didn't make it more than a couple of months. I miss it and today I opened that bottle of La Folie - a bottle I'd held onto for a couple of years - and thought about Mike and Ed and Robert and all the other guys at Leaf and Ale.
A friend of mine, Tyler, was stopping by to pick up some old growlers that I had. We haven't seen each other in quite a long time and his wife is about to have a baby, so he'll have his hands full for a while. I, of course, asked him if he wanted to share a beer. I was met with an unequivocal yes, so I poked around in the cooler until I came across this bottle.
"Have you ever had La Folie?" I asked Tyler.
He pondered for a moment. "I don't believe I have."
"Well, neither have I. Let's do this."
And we did. Wrenching the cap off with my trusty beer club, I was delighted to hear a good hiss from the cap. Carbonation was going to be my friend today.
I poured both of us a tulip and quickly snapped a picture. As you can see, the beer held a very nice head. It had a nice craggy texture to it and was full of really nice aromas.
Putting the glass up to my nose I was immediately hit by the sour aroma. Much like the other sours I've had, that scent at first is a bit overwhelming. I decided to drink it down a bit and try a trick I learned from drinking Scotch.
The taste at the beginning was of sour cherries. The bubbles were fine and really tantalizing on my tongue. A fine effervescence is something that I love, and this one did not disappoint. The bubbles were damned near perfect.
"Sour apple," Tyler mused. "It kind of makes me think of those Warheads candies from back in the day."
I laughed. "You know, you're right. It really does. Sweetness after the sour, but a real pucker upper at the beginning."
As the glass warmed I tasted a hint of dark chocolate, burnt malt and some of that funk that you'll always get in a Belgian style. Sweet, sour and a bit savory. The finish even had a touch of saltiness to it, which I found to be very interesting.
I set the glass down and gave it a swirl, then grabbed a card that was sitting on the bar, covering up the mouth of the glass. This is the trick I spoke of earlier. I learned to do this with whisky, building up the aromas in the glass so that when you uncover it you get a huge hit of scent.
After I'd let it sit for about 5 minutes I uncovered the glass and jammed my schnozz down into the tulip. Booze, burnt sugar, oak all came to my olfactory nerve.
Tyler took the card next and did the same trick. "It dissipated really quickly, but I definitely am getting wood aromas. I'm guessing it's the oak they aged it in. And I smell the boozy quality too. There's a bit of caramel in there as well."
As we sipped and the beer warmed up it got more astringent and woody, with a more plum-like quality, all the while keeping you well aware that this stuff was a serious sour.
When I asked Tyler what he thought overall, he said, "This is my first sour. I like it. It's refreshing, especially for a day like today. It's so hot out there. It definitely doesn't linger on the tongue, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing. I'm going to have to explore these sours some more. "
Another person turned on to the joy of sours. I'm going to try and pick a non-sour for my next review, but it's going to be difficult. There are so many good sours being made that I just want to keep trying them over and over again.
Ratebeer gave this beer an overall 100, with a 97 for the style. While I wouldn't place it that high up on the charts (Rodenbach Grand Cru still stands out as the best I've had so far. Given that the master brewer of La Folie came from Rodenbach, I'm not surprised), I will definitely say that it's a rockin' good sour. I'm glad I have a few more bottles stashed in the cellar, because I can't wait to see what it's like as it ages.
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