As any brewmaster or beer drinker can tell you, “sour” and “beer” are two words that generally don’t go together. Whether it’s a nasty funk caused by an infected yeast strain, or off-flavours in a cask ale that’s been tapped for too long, sourness is not a welcome characteristic in the flavour profile of most beers.

But that’s not to say that all sour beers are bad. There are some beer styles, in fact, where sourness isn’t just allowed, but actually expected. The most well known of these are the lambics of Belgium, beers that are brewed in a centuries-old traditional fashion where the wort (essentially a barley soup that is made at the beginning of the brewing process) is left in open fermentation tanks and exposed to wild yeasts rather that using the stable cultivated cultures used in most beer. The inoculated liquid is then transferred to oak barrels where it ferments and ages for 2 years or more, with the end result being a bracingly sour and acidic beer which is usually mixed with a younger partially fermented lambic to produce a blend called gueuze, or with various fruit flavours (cherry and raspberry being the most common) to create a tart but slightly more palatable refresher.

Further north in the Flemish region of the country, the sibling ale styles Oud Bruin (”Old Brown”) and Flanders Red also wave the sour beer flag, although the sourness is developed using controlled yeast strains and ageing techniques, making the tartness more balanced and not quite as funky or “barnyardy” as that found in lambics. Of the two, Flanders Red tends to be the more sour, with notes of dark fruits and sour berries in both the aroma and flavour, and some vinegar-like notes that can range from mild to strong. Both styles are undoubtedly an acquired taste, but once you get that taste, the Reds in particular can become quite addictive.

As one of those addicts, I’ve been constantly disappointed that the style is has been virtually non-existent in Ontario, aside from a brief appearance of the venerated Rodenbach Grand Cru at the LCBO as a seasonal release a couple of years ago, and scattered availability of Panil Barriquée and Duchesse De Bourgogne at a few bars and restaurants. So I was pretty excited when I found out last year that two different Ontario craft breweries were planning on taking a crack at making a Flanders Red.

The first to come out was Church-Key’s Lactese Falcon which received what could charitably be called mixed reviews, an unfortunate misstep from a generally excellent brewery. So my hopes were pinned on the one promised by Grand River Brewing, a relatively new brewery in Cambridge. I had the good luck to visit the brewery back in November, and tried a sample of the beer while it was still early in the fermentation cycle, so there was just a hint of the sourness, but enough to know that it would likely turn into something good. The end result was finally released earlier this month under the name Ploegers Vlaams Rood (Dutch for “Plowmans Flemish Red”),

I should be noted here that Grand River brewmaster Rob Creighton took some liberties with the Flanders Red style when creating this beer. Taking inspiration from Eisbocks, he froze the beer twice during fermentation and ageing, which served to concentrate the flavours and up the alcohol level to 7%. He also gave it a heavier dose of hops than is typical, which created a very unique flavour profile.

This past week, I was able to try the beer in a couple of different forms. At Volo, they had a cask version available, while Creighton was pouring the keg draught form at the annual Pepperwood Beer Festival in Burlington this past weekend. The appearance and aroma were consistent across both versions: a hazy ruby-brown colour with a very thin layer of off-white bubbles, and an aroma of sour cherry, a bit of mulled wine, and hops. The cask version had the typical soft body, while the draught was slightly more carbonation, but still quite soft in the mouth.

As for the flavour, that’s where some differences came through. The cask has a mild sourness off the top, a sudden aggressive bitterness from the hops, and then more sourness coming through in the finish, although it still doesn’t overtake the hoppiness. On draught, the sourness was definitely more prominent, with the hops playing second fiddle, but still stronger than you’d expect from the style. In both cases, the alcohol brings a bit of drying heat to the finish.

Whether on cask or draught, this is a very unique and impressive beer, even despite (or perhaps because of) the variation from the normal style guidelines. My only complaint is that it’s a limited run beer (for now, at least), and is only available in half-gallon “growler” jugs at the brewery or on tap at a few selected licensees. So I’ll have to just enjoy it while it’s around, and then go back to hoping for the day when there’ll be at least one Flanders Red available in Ontario on a year-round basis.

Which should be right around the same time that primates cruise out of my posterior. Sigh.