Three Reviews - Stouterik, Oerbier, Festina Peche

Over the weekend, giddy from the sunshine, I picked up a three-pack of unsampled beers. Without further preamble or ado, I will dive into the reviews.

Stouterik, Brasserie De La Senne
De La Senne is the new little Belgian brewery that brought us Taras Boulba, aka "Smeirlap!", a power-packed ale so full of flavor I was stunned to learn it was only 4.5% alcohol. The brewery's other US import is Stouterik, a "Brussels"--or alternately "Belgian"--stout. It is, in fact, a pretty straightforward Irish stout of modest strength. (I am charmed by De La Senne's commitment to lower-alcohol beers. I almost sense in their ethos a revolutionary side that wishes to provide drinkers with all the flavor they expect from Belgian ale, but with half the ingredients.)

Stouterik is radical--but as with political radicals, this means it's a niche beer. The presentation is just about perfect--it is jet black and has a rich, mocha head that froths to the end. The nose is sumptuous--a dense, roasted-coffee nose with just a whiff of wheat. The flavor, though--whew! Irish stouts famously get their sour in part from roasted barley. Taste Stouterik to understand why: the wild, burnt malt is so intense it naturally bleeds into sourness. In this beer, you can taste directly how these two flavors are actually a continuum. You can find chocolate notes underneath if you dig around long enough, but it's like trying to hear your phone ring at the Holiday Ale Fest. The finish is a wild ride, too--those roast malts leave an aftertaste of dryness that rushes all the way up your throat to the roof of your mouth. For me,Stouterik is way too burned to be called good, but there's no doubt the brewery intended to make exactly this beer (fresh, wonderful head retention, no off-notes, nice vitality.) But--and this is a big but--it could be a cult beer for those who like extremely dark chocolate-type bitterness. If that's you, give it a shot. Rating: A for its cult niche crowd; an intense C+ for everyone else

Oerbier, De Dolle Brouwers
I've actually had this beer before, but it's been years and years. I haven't seen the "Mad Brewers" in stores lately, and I've been hankering for one of their uncategorizable (but distinctively Belgian) offerings.

I hadn't intended it to serve a s ritual beer, but as I was watching Bill Moyers interview David Simon on Friday, it occurred to me that it was a fantastic beer to drink as benediction to winter. That was our last drizzly, cold day before the warm weather returned. In Oerbier are the qualities that make winter tolerable; on that evening, the last time I'd need them.

Oerbier is a strong, dark ale lightened and strengthened with candi sugar. This makes it appear denser than it turns out to be, though the violently effervescent, spring-fed head is a clue to its true nature. I was drinking it in dim light, but it appeared almost crimson (my colorblindness doesn't help where hues of red are concerned). The flavor is something like 3 parts Chimay, one part Flanders Red. The candi sugar means it's a little less creamy than a big abbey, but every bit as strong. In addition to the tart, cherry notes are spicy, wintry ones--cinnamon and cloves. A very nice beer and one regularly cited as a classic. I won't disagree: rating, B+.

Festina Peche, Dogfish Head
My intentions are good. Really. I bought this beer determined to locate a Dogfish Head beer I could brag on. A Berliner Weisse flavored with peach--it seemed like such a safe bet! Alas, it was a woeful experiment. The trouble began right away--it was nearly flat, even when I tried to rouse it with a tall pour. A stray bubble or two--to call them a proper bead would be overstating the point--rose languidly to the surface. The nose was faintly sour, but tinny and hollow like canned fruit, which more or less describes the beer. Now that Bill's got me spooked about beer descriptions--I've done my best to muscle through this post--I'll dispense with adjectives and move to the final sentence of my notes: "Like a flat soda that has been sitting out in the sun for a few hours." Rating: C-

Smeirlap! (Taras Boulba, De La Senne Brewery)

Since I've spent a few days castigating the Belgians, I think it's time to praise them. Last week I picked up a bottle from Belmont Station--I hesitate to admit this and sacrifice my street cred--based solely on the label. My knack for decanting beer is clearly greater than my skill at photography, but at right you can see the label that beguiled. The image shows a burly, teamster-looking guy about to crush a scrawny beggar-looking man. They are inexplicably near a circus, and the teamster screams "Smeirlap!" That and the three words I could read ("Extra Hoppy Ale") were enough to make the sale.

As a now-elderly man who must scuttle around on bad knees while nursing a case of low-grade sciatica, I have few remaining childish joys left to indulge. One is purchasing beers from foreign lands, particularly when the label is inexplicable and bizarre. One has a sense (however romantic and inaccurate) that the beer represents something essential about the country, and that decanting the beer is a little like pouring out a bit of the country. (I should note that less than half the beers acquired in this manner have been worth a damn. Still.) It turns out there's a story behind the label (with Belgians, there almost always is), but more about that later.

Tasting Notes
It turns out the beer is a paltry 4.5% alcohol--substantially lighter than Full Sail Session--but I didn't know that until after I drank it. Absolutely nothing tipped it off. It is a corked beer, and comes roiling out like a Belgian strong. The head is absolutely magnificent, as thick and well-structured as whipped egg whites. (In the picture, you can see the peaks.) It's a hazy golden and sports a massive bead. Upon visual inspection, I had already concluded it was going to be a big beer.

The aroma and flavor mislead as well. The aroma in particular is complex and interesting--at first just peppery, but then I detected something that made me jot down "soap," and later it hit me--lavender. It is predictably rocky and effervescent on the tongue, which draws out the "extra hoppy" character advertised on the label. The bitterness--robust, but not out of balance--is of an almond/apricot pit quality. Far different from our green hoppiness. I detected no candi sugar (for reasons now obvious), but it felt every bit as big and substantial as many of the complex Belgians that ring in at 7-10%. No funk in the yeast, but it is very, very dry. A great beer, and a revelation when I learned it was a session ale (though at ten bucks a bottle, you won't be drinking it by the liter). I would like to hear about the 4.5% beer that has more flavor and more character than Taras Boulba.

The brewery is brand-spanking new--so new they don't even have a brewery. They borrow De Ranke's. (Interesting. Wonder if time-sharing is an option here? I have a sweet little brown I wouldn't mind trying to take to a wider audience. Kurt and Rob?) Their lineup features five beers, but only two are imported to the US. The other, a 4.5% stout, I did not see.

Okay, so what about the label? Don't bother trying the website--it's in French or Dutch, your choice. English, tantalizingly listed on the splash, is not yet operational. Fortunately, Shelton Brothers, the importer, has the details.

It's all been explained to us by the brewers, but we're still not entirely clear about it. What we can understand is that a young Flemish man has gone and married a French-speaking Wallonian girl, and his father, Taras Boulba, is very angry. (Smeirlap means 'fool' in a bizarre local dialect, which combines Flemish and French, somehow.)

This is all a bastardization of the original story by Gogol, whose protagonist was Russian, a Protestant. His son marries a Polish girl, a Catholic, during the religious war between the two countries in the 1600's, and the Russian father simply kills his son to eliminate the shame.

I am pleased to hear that the explanation only makes the whole thing more charming, if no more coherent. I recommend you try a bottle, should you see it. Another wonderful mold-breaking beer from Belgium, and only a smeirlap would fail to see that.