Let me begin by stating categorically that I hate the term ‘sour ale’ and deplore its use on the label of a beer as iconic as Rodenbach Grand Cru. ‘Sour,’ to me, denotes something aggressively acidic, like vinegar or the juice of a weeks-old lemon, whereas I believe the word ‘tart’ better describes the tang of a beer like the Grand Cru, more evocative of cherries or the sweet and tart juice of a fresh lemon.
That said, my campaign against the category title has gone nowhere over the years, even with such a powerful ally as the late Armand de Belder, founder of the exceptional and highly respected lambic brewery, Drie Fonteinen, who despised it as much as I did. So I suppose that I have to accept its presence on at least Rodenbach’s North American labels. (Mercifully, Belgian labels still describe the beer as a Flanders Red Ale.)
The Grand Cru is reddish-brown in colour with a sustaining tan foam and an aroma that is, simply, unmistakable. Unlike certain other Flemish-style red ales, which sport hints of Balsamic vinegar or other traces of acetic acid, it offers a nose that is tangy without being sour or vinegary, tart cherries with mild oak and vanilla, hints of pepper both black and white, even a suggestion of milk chocolate.
The palate entry is pure fruit – tart cherry with a hint of strawberry – before the complexity grows on the mid-palate with oak notes, a fruitiness that grows more plummy than cherry, although still retaining mild cherry notes, some earthy malt character, and towards the end, a mild to moderate lactic character that creates a sort of unexpected creaminess.. There is nothing cloying about the finish, though, with lingering cherry, vanilla, and earthy wood.
More so then perhaps any other Belgian beer, this is one I have great difficulty in properly describing. The notes above, as I reread them, do scant justice to what has for decades been the very definition of its style, something to which others can only aspire.
Without mentioning any names, I tasted this alongside other examples of the style, all very worthy and of the sort of character I would seldom if ever refuse. Yet despite the undisputed quality of the field, Rodenbach Grand Cru bested them in terms of balance, character, and tartness without acidity. It’s a classic for a reason.
(Note: For those with an aversion to assertive tartness in beer, there is always Rodenbach Classic, a blended and ‘toned down’ variation available in a can. It is delicious, not quite the equal of the Grand Cru, but at $3.50 for a half-lire a great buy nonetheless.)
96 ($3.95)