This is a follow-up to a previous (my 1st) post about Sour Beers
Again this is written post-Indy Man Beer Con, where I tend to drink (sample) most of my sour beers.
A more comprehensive review(s)(?) of Indy Man will be posted in the fullness of time.
Now, I’m wonder whether to start off this post with a proviso, but that would just make a point that I’m not really trying to make.
At Indy Man, I was unable to attend the Beer Moth sours tasting sessions that ran throughout the weekend. What I’m lead to believe, at one event they took along different aged bottles of Orval – I even heard someone complained about one of their tastings because they weren’t all sour beer – yep, definitely can’t please all the people all the time.
Anyway, long story short I had quite a few sour beers (as you’d expect from this post given the title) – my only problem being that none of them (well except for one, which was a law unto itself) were not sour.
They weren’t bad drinks, I’m all for experimentation with styles and flavours and given the descriptions of what else the brews were supposed to taste of, all of them carried that part of with aplomb.
But these beers just didn’t strike me as sour when compared to the ones I’d sampled approximately 365 days previously.
Very refreshing, but there was one description I couldn’t get out of my head to label them all as…
The kind your grandma gives you (hot on winter days) when it just isn’t sweet enough and really just taste a bit too much like flavoured water.
They actually acted as a palate cleanser to the previously drunk beers of their given session rather than stimulating the tongue like the previous ones did in my 1st post on sour beers.
This is just a little post, won’t dissuade me from drinking any more sour beers – I just want a bit more sour.
Though having said that, the exception that I did have, that was a brute. So as with anything science related, it’s all about fractions and it is a very fine sour line to walk.