I like sour beer. I like beer with a bit of character, a bit of daring. Some good old ballsy spunk.
The guys at De Molen are certainly ballsy when they're at their best, and from what I've heard, their take on the medieval, salty-sour Gose style is supposed to be...well...something else, if nothing else.
First impression: beautiful colour. And no. Head. Whatsoever.
Just falls flat in the glass the moment you pour it, and the bottle doesn't even have the decency to go psht.
Skepsis rears its ugly head.
A weird, lactic nose, with a whiff of sea breeze maybe. Not unlike that Tyttebær I had recently; almost medicinal and decidedly unconventional. There's a hint of butter there, as well as an aldehyde/solvent-like backdrop.Not exactly nail polish, and not even something hinting of paint brushes, but yes, a certain chemical pong that not many people I know would appreciate. Combined with the lethargic carbonation, one would be tempted to believe this beer is simply, well, fucked up.
But wait!
That for science crap I keep spouting? I'm serious about that.
So here goes.
Back with you in a minute.
Oh.
Wow.
Oh wow.
Now that's...peculiar.
Take a typical, true-to-style South-West Flanders Old Brown Ale (yeah, I know already, I didn't invent the bloody name of the style).
Take that lactic sourness, bordering on vinegary acidity. Take the hints of wood and the clinging film of vinous puckering fruitiness. Now add to that a hint of what was going on in the Tyttebær, a murmur of pharmacist/dentist's office mixed with muscle spray, only much milder than in that Norse concoction. Add a pinch of salt, both in the flavour (yes, there is a bit of silt in the taste and on the tongue) and in the mouthfeel. As if your glass were rinsed with sea brine.
Then read the label and yes, there really is a bit of coriander hidden in there as well.
An aftertaste of medium length, fruity and oaky like a sour alre should be.
There's so much going on in here, but most of it is conflicting with either everything else, or with my preconception of what constitutes beer.
The stillness, yet the fine, delicate tingling on the tongue.
The sourness, yet that hint of caramelised bitter-sweetness.
Spices, yet an utter absence of a spicey character.
Tartness, bordering on grimace-inducing astrigency.
Finesse, muddled up in rustic straightworwardness.
A bourrée of beer.
I have recently tasted De Molen's Lief&Leef, which is their take on a classic sour ale in the (here we go again) South West Flanders Old Brown Ale tradition. That particular brew is completely congruent with the style and any over-par example of it, and in fact mostly surprising in how superlatively balanced and elegant it is.
I've had De Struise Brouwers' Weltmertz, which defies the boundaries of the genre and takes it to town in a daring, novel and again, refined direction.
This Gose, while related in style, leaves me out of my depth. It's stunning, no doubt. But perhaps Google was right when it popped up that pic earlier. Just like Kazachstan's best known citizen, this beer is gutsy and full of chutzpah, disarmingly alien and quaint, but at the same time extremely confrontational. You have to appreciate the fine parts of it, and make no mistake, they're there. But in order to do so, you need to be able (and willing) to wade through a bit of shock factor, a bit of obsessive transgressiveness, ere you reap some reward.
Now you can say about this brew whatever you want, but to me, it's yet another example of how De Molen seems incapable of letting me down. While this is nowhere close to the go-to brew I'd hoped it to be (may I remind you, Constant Reader, that I like sour beers?), it is, essentially, bottled conversation. Pour this for a beer geek, and tongues will roll. Voices will be raised. Arguments will be fired back and forth. More bottles will be popped and comparisons made.
All this, if I understand this beer at all, because of a pinch of salt.
De Molen crew, you've done it again.
Beer: Mühle & Bahnhoff
Brewery: De Molen
Style: Gose (a mediaval salted sour ale)
ABV: 9.2%
EBU: 11
EBC: 30
Served: 330ml bottle
Greetz
Jo
 |
| Seriously, Google? This is what you come up with when I do a search for ballsy spunk? Oh. Wait. Perhaps, given the phrasing, I should count myself lucky. |
 |
| Mühle. Check. Bahnhoff. Check. Psht. No check. |
First impression: beautiful colour. And no. Head. Whatsoever.
Just falls flat in the glass the moment you pour it, and the bottle doesn't even have the decency to go psht.
Skepsis rears its ugly head.
 |
| Thank you, Google. Much better. |
A weird, lactic nose, with a whiff of sea breeze maybe. Not unlike that Tyttebær I had recently; almost medicinal and decidedly unconventional. There's a hint of butter there, as well as an aldehyde/solvent-like backdrop.Not exactly nail polish, and not even something hinting of paint brushes, but yes, a certain chemical pong that not many people I know would appreciate. Combined with the lethargic carbonation, one would be tempted to believe this beer is simply, well, fucked up.
But wait!
That for science crap I keep spouting? I'm serious about that.
So here goes.
Back with you in a minute.
Oh.
Wow.
Oh wow.
Now that's...peculiar.
Take a typical, true-to-style South-West Flanders Old Brown Ale (yeah, I know already, I didn't invent the bloody name of the style).
Take that lactic sourness, bordering on vinegary acidity. Take the hints of wood and the clinging film of vinous puckering fruitiness. Now add to that a hint of what was going on in the Tyttebær, a murmur of pharmacist/dentist's office mixed with muscle spray, only much milder than in that Norse concoction. Add a pinch of salt, both in the flavour (yes, there is a bit of silt in the taste and on the tongue) and in the mouthfeel. As if your glass were rinsed with sea brine.
Then read the label and yes, there really is a bit of coriander hidden in there as well.
An aftertaste of medium length, fruity and oaky like a sour alre should be.
There's so much going on in here, but most of it is conflicting with either everything else, or with my preconception of what constitutes beer.
The stillness, yet the fine, delicate tingling on the tongue.
The sourness, yet that hint of caramelised bitter-sweetness.
Spices, yet an utter absence of a spicey character.
Tartness, bordering on grimace-inducing astrigency.
Finesse, muddled up in rustic straightworwardness.
A bourrée of beer.
I have recently tasted De Molen's Lief&Leef, which is their take on a classic sour ale in the (here we go again) South West Flanders Old Brown Ale tradition. That particular brew is completely congruent with the style and any over-par example of it, and in fact mostly surprising in how superlatively balanced and elegant it is.
I've had De Struise Brouwers' Weltmertz, which defies the boundaries of the genre and takes it to town in a daring, novel and again, refined direction.
This Gose, while related in style, leaves me out of my depth. It's stunning, no doubt. But perhaps Google was right when it popped up that pic earlier. Just like Kazachstan's best known citizen, this beer is gutsy and full of chutzpah, disarmingly alien and quaint, but at the same time extremely confrontational. You have to appreciate the fine parts of it, and make no mistake, they're there. But in order to do so, you need to be able (and willing) to wade through a bit of shock factor, a bit of obsessive transgressiveness, ere you reap some reward.
Now you can say about this brew whatever you want, but to me, it's yet another example of how De Molen seems incapable of letting me down. While this is nowhere close to the go-to brew I'd hoped it to be (may I remind you, Constant Reader, that I like sour beers?), it is, essentially, bottled conversation. Pour this for a beer geek, and tongues will roll. Voices will be raised. Arguments will be fired back and forth. More bottles will be popped and comparisons made.
All this, if I understand this beer at all, because of a pinch of salt.
De Molen crew, you've done it again.
Beer: Mühle & Bahnhoff
Brewery: De Molen
Style: Gose (a mediaval salted sour ale)
ABV: 9.2%
EBU: 11
EBC: 30
Served: 330ml bottle
Greetz
Jo
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