Well it has finally come to this, wales of a certain age. It is not necessarily the whitest whale in the world like say SdM, Dave, or M, but, suffice it to say, it is up there. Let’s just get this out of the way: I received this in a vacuum sealed vial. Everyone was up in arms and the balls tripped were substantial. Second, yes it is a 4 ounce pour. I know I usually give other beer sites a mouthful of shit for small pours and shitty reviews but, I am giving myself an executive pardon, because fuck you. You….you ride the bus. Anyway, let’s get elbows deep in blubber in today’s review:
De Struise Brouwers
Lambic – Unblended | 7.00% ABV
What makes this fucking beer so rare and sought out, other than the fact that it is almost 30 years old? Well, Starting with a Lambic grist bill composed of 70% barley malt and 30% unmalted wheat. No yeast was artificially added to the wort, but was exposed for two days to the open air in one of Struise’s plastic tunnels at the Noordhoek Ostrich Farm. First fermentation took place in second hand sherry oak casks for six weeks. 200 grams of Northern cherries per litre and the Roeseleire yeast strain were added after six months, provoking a new fermentation process. Eight months later, we pumped over the young ale to oak casks and let it mature for another 3 years. This project was realized after a tasting of the same recipe Urbain once made 20 years ago and was barrel aging in his garage in De Panne eversince and while he was in Africa and forgot all about it. This version is the original version that he completely forgot about, not the blended version. Gangster.
A: Just look at how beautiful this beer looks. There is a huge garnet meets translucent ruby quality to it. Some people lose their shit when I use “ruby” as an adjective, let’s call him Eric, anyway, that is exactly what it is. Amazingly, it still had a tiny wispy crackle of carbonation that sustained nicely. There was no lacing to speak of but, come on, this beer is 30 years old you perfectionist. This has a look of a framboise meets kriek in the best way possible, like pulling two two lambics at the at the same same damn time (time).
S: This has an amazing raspberry and ripe strawberry aspect to the nose that leans towards fresh Farmers’ Market than the simple juicy acidity that some fruited lambics embrace. There is a deep acidity but the stage that all of this takes place on is a huge musk like the depths of a dog grooming salon. There is this intense attic meets old yearbook funkiness to it that reminds me of the way that Brabantiae took me back to the past. “Comparing one wale to another whale, thanks a lot asshole.” Sorry, that’s the most adept way that I can describe it, beer harder or GTFO.
T: This follows the nose identically and presents a tart cherry acidity at the outset that sublimates into a nice tannic profile and that funky musk follows with an incredible dryness. The pour was so small that I essentially got 5 swallows of this before it was gone, so take all of this as a shittier than usual standard of my other reviews but, that being said, this is easily one of the best lambics that I have ever had, it is more complex than Hommage and more drinkable than Blabaer. This is like the Mechazord of fruited lambics and haters always tryna watch the throne.
M: This is incredibly dry but the light sweetness of the fruit provides relief with the same hand that takes it away. The cobweb and stale dustiness of the backend looks onward from a cherry podium compelling the acidity to push onward, through the annals of time.
D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the funk interplay with the acidity balances this sweet nectar like a Hatori Hanzo sword and this shit will dice you up. I feel like a douchewaffle recommending this or calling it drinkable because if you 1) find a bottle of this and 2) drink it to yourself, you are a dick. Hopefully this review made the pants of beer nerds a lil tighter, if not, I will beer harder.
Narrative: The brackish spray of the Caspian Sea blew wispy clouds of mist around the hull of the S.S. ISO:FT$4$IP. Captain Brock Wellington looked out upon the vast expanse of the horizon, ever scanning for the beast that had eluded him so many times before. “Captain! THIS MAKES NO SENSE! We have been searching for over 29 years for this beast in what amounts to the world’s largest lake. There is no way that a whale would still reside here.” Captain Wellington expectorated upon the deck and turned swiftly upon his false leg crudely constructed out of an empty Jereboam bottle. “YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT A SIMPLE ANIMAL! No Jerves, you misunderstand why we have set out day after day, we are seeking not an animal, but a mythical 30 year old beast, an underwater sea unicorn, FOR HER TEARS ARE THE CHERRY SOBS OF SERAPHIM.” Jerves clutched the round robin in his pocket and knew at that moment that his captain has gone full on batshit. Just then a deep spray gurgled over the starboard side and the air was redolent with raspberries. “THAR SHE BE!” Captain Wellington cried out and watched a mythical filthy horse raise from the depths, flying on dirty ostrich wings, sobbing mournfully with a menacing howl. “MAN THE MAGNUMS! CATCH EVERY LAST DROP!” The crew steered the Manowar deftly and caught the red mist, inhaling liquid magnificence. For a small moment, it was not about the hunt, it was the satisfaction of conquests fulfilled. They pooled together a total of 4 ounces and presented it to their jubilant captain. He slowly sipped the vial to completion and then jumped into the salty depths below. No round robin was necessary, for having tasted the sweet tears of unicorn angels, his life was complete. walesbro.