In my family, real estate is sort of a big deal.  Since we all know what happened to the housing market in 2008, we began doing something every year for Christmas:  we drew names.  Ultimately this meant I only had to buy a single gift but it did mean I was also receiving a single gift.  This year, my brother got me and while it really was thoughtful of him to get what he got me–I already had one.  Semper paratus as they say, he had the receipt handy:  Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Shit. At least they sell beer in the “beyond” section.

This is my review of Lindemann’s Kriek Lambic. 

Lambic is among the oldest styles of beer, but do not confuse this to mean these are in any sense of the word, primitive.  On the palate these are as complex as they come, with several diverse sub-styles.  To get a good idea of how old these may be, the painting below titled, Peasant Wedding from around 1567 suggests, people have been enjoying Lambic for centuries.

It’s a style believed to have originated in Belgium around the time of the Roman conquest.  The Germanic tribes viewed the wine made by Mediterranean cultures to be effeminate, which even now seems to be an opinion held by many, though not me personally.  The earliest known account was from Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, while travelling to the region he ordered a pitcher at a local pub.  He took a liking to the lambic and had several servings from the pitcher, and apparently harassed the blonde waitress.  Man of the people, he was.

But like everything else these days, there seem to be conflicting reports.  According to this guy, there is no specific evidence that lambics existed before the 18th century. There is nothing medieval about this beer other than the stoneware Belgians used.  It is a myth perpetuated mostly by lazy beer writers who don’t know what they’re talking about and sure enough, the misconception is the story that stuck.

The commonality between the stories is what I can assume isn’t fake news.  What is common?  Lambics are a type of sour beer that is defined by its spontaneous fermentation.  That is, the brewers will put the casks outside to allow and even siphon wild yeast and bacteria into the wort to do the dirty work. Modern lambics are not made with a biochemist on staff with some GMO yeast strain in a test tube.  It’s as natural as it gets without isolating a strain from a brewmaster’s hipster beard (Rogue), or even a yeast pulled from some lady’s yoo hoo.

No, seriously.  A lab in Poland swabbed and isolated the strain from a Czech model. If I told you they swabbed her, would you drink it?

Much like wine and whiskey (or whisky for your Canadians), lambics are often blended with other lambics to allow for varying levels of complexity.  Charles V himself was likely served a blend with a sweeter variety to make it more palatable. These can be served like champagne, and the sour varieties are great to pair with food because they do well to cleanse the palate.  This one is made with sour cherries, hence the name Kreik.  Others made by Lindemann include strawberry, raspberry (framboise), black currants (cassis), and peaches (peche).  This one is more tart than sour and is very light. If you happen to like cherries, you’ll like this one.  Lindeman’s Kreik Lambic 4.0/5.