In Monday's post, I mentioned the fine selection on offer in Bordeaux beer bar Le Sure Mesure. One of them was L'Effet Flamande, a collaboration between Bordeaux's own Effet Papillon and Brasserie du Pays Flamand, up north, near Lille. This is another one of those golden Brettanomyces-fermented jobs, this one at 7% ABV. This version of it has been given twenty months of barrel ageing and an extra inoculation of wild yeast and bacteria, though retains the 7% ABV of the basic edition. It is strikingly tart from the get-go, dry and crisp, but with an almost vinegar-like burn. I struggled to find the fruit behind this, detecting perhaps some white grape or gooseberry, but curdled, not juicy. It's nearly very good; nearly brilliant, in fact, but it's too sharp. A bit of blending to tone that down would have been welcome.
Always on the lookout for weirdness, my eye was caught by Effet Papillon's À Go Go, a gose with cucumber and celery. The latter is entirely new for me as a beer ingredient, but I can see how it might work with the salt. It's a plain murky yellow in the glass, the head fizzing away quickly to nothing. Savoury green celery is the full extent of the aroma, so at least they're being up-front and honest about that ingredient. It is hella vegetal on tasting. Yes, I can pick out both the celery and cucumber individually, but when combined with the salt, it adds up to a big simmering pot of root vegetables, suggesting turnip, carrot and beet to me as well. It's cool and crisp, so maybe more of a coleslaw-minus-the-mayonnaise effect. It's very weird, and perhaps a smidge too earthy to work. Full respect for the experiment, however, though I won't be rushing quite so quickly to buy my next celery beer.
45 minutes on the tram out of town gets you to the Effet Papillon brewery, spread across several buildings in white-van land, one of which is the taproom. I had the place to myself on a Wednesday afternoon, and started with the Pils Française.
This is 4.5% ABV and very pale in the glass, a wan and watery-looking yellow. While very dry at first, in that mineral-driven Belgian way, a sweeter and savoury side emerges soon after, reminding me of corn relish and those highly addictive cheese-stuffed baby red peppers that Lidl does. Yum. It's like it's trying to be a serious pils but missing the mark. I like the quirkiness of it, though still think they need a straight German or Czech-style lager in the range.
I beefed it up for round two with the 6% ABV India Pale Ale. Oddly, it looked almost identical to the previous one: pale yellow with a slight haze. And though it looks bland, the aroma is very punchy, giving off a powerful citrus zest and a quieter counter melody of oily resin. The texture supports that: it's thick, but in a hop-forward way, avoiding any malt syrup or caramel. The flavour stays fresh and zesty, so it's clean and refreshing despite the density. On the sub-style spectrum, it's probably somewhere between a clean zippy cold IPA and the weighty intensity of classic west-coast. Whatever, it works beautifully. The sort of IPA freshness for which one travels to the source.
Skipping the double IPA option, I went straight for triple: Allez, at 9.5% ABV. There's a bit of colour to this one; it's amber but still clear. A little sticky malt presents in the aroma but otherwise it smells of very little. The flavour is no great shakes either. You get the heavy, hard-candy sweet side, and then merely hints of marmalade and fruit tea. It's dense and chewy, so we haven't been gypped there, but the hop element is all a bit old-world, and that's not what anyone comes to triple IPA for.
Going back to light and pale, beer four was a Lichtenhainer called Holy Smoke. This one is only 4% ABV though they've fairly piled in the smoke, making it smell a little acrid and chemically. The sourness arrives in the flavour and is tangy, and surprisingly complementary with the phenolic smoke. It's always surprising how breweries can do smoky, sour, even a little hazy, and still have a flavour that's clean and refreshing. The key is the finish, which here is crisp Bramley apple skin. I get why this is a divisive, and therefore unpopular, beer style, but I would love to see more of it.
A dark beer was necessary and I didn't fancy their candied-up imperial stout so went with Sweet Memories, a 5% ABV porter with just cocoa and coffee. The aroma has that slightly dry wafer biscuit effect I often get from chocolate beers; not unpleasant but not beloved either. The texture is fabulously creamy and luxurious, while the taste leans fully into the chocolate, suggesting the hot and smooth drinking sort, sweet not bitter, with a mild salty tang. The coffee is no more than a seasoning on top of this, though a welcome one. Overall it's very good, lacking flaws and imbalances while delivering exactly what the description promises. Can't say fairer than.
My finisher here was one with a bit of local character, a Sauternes Barrel Aged Saison, brewed in collaboration with Wilde Leeuw, the barrel ageing arm of Pays de Flamande. It's yellow and crystal clear, 8.5% ABV and smells of that lovely blend of funk, oak and fruit which makes this sort of thing unmissable for me. That tracks through to the flavour for the most part, though the sappy, splintery wood is more prominent than is ideal. It's rescued by the wine, laying down a deliciously thick and luxurious layer of botrytised delight, where the wood helps stop it turning sickly. I don't know if the sprinkle of pepper on top comes from the barrels or the saison yeast but it's very welcome. I was after complexity and I got it; maybe not as mature and integrated as the best of these, but well on the road to it. This should be sampled from a properly conditioned bottle, of course, rather than fresh <shudder> from a taproom tap.
The brewery and its taproom are quite the asset for the city, and the product is very easily found in bars, restaurants and shops. It seems to me to be doing all the things you'd want a local brewery to do, in any city.
In the final report from Bordeaux, we'll take a look at what gets imported.
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