Most craft-beer zealots will by now have noticed the tidal wave of so-called (and aptly named) sour beers being churned out by Canada's small brewers. It's a strange trend, if you ask me, because the flavour, sometimes veering straight into vinegar territory, is what you might call an acquired taste that even some of the most passionate beerhounds never acquire.
Sour beers represent an intersection, in a sense, between beer and wine. Often matured in oak (in some cases barrels that once contained wine), they can come across with grapy flavour. Rodenbach, founded in Belgium in the early 19th century, is considered by many to be the granddaddy of the category. The brewery deploys more than 20 strains of yeast (which are key to the sourness) and three fermentations, including a final one that can last up to two years in large wooden vats.
This Flemish red-style Grand Cru, newly arrived at LCBO stores in Ontario, is chestnut brown, slightly hazy and bracingly tart, with moderate carbonation, 6-per-cent alcohol and a head that dissipates quickly. And it is, indeed, a little bit wine-like, sort of like a young, light, racy red crossed with strawberries and figs drizzled with balsamic vinegar. It would pair well with blue cheeses, fish and chips, garlicky mussels and even sweet-and-sour Chinese dishes, among other things. But, fair warning: It is an acquired taste.