Fair warning - this is gonna hurt. Hurt not because the beer I'm about to tell you about was so wonderful, but because there is likely no way in the world that you or I will ever taste it again. Reason for that being: a) The Wets lambic brewery no longer exists, and hasn't for at least a decade; and b) Even if it did, supplies of this 20 year old kriek dosed (apparently by accident) with double the ordinary amount of cherries are likely in very, very short supply.
That said, for purely informational purposes, allow me to elaborate. This 750 ml bottle of Wets Kriek was given to me at the 2006 Kerstbierfestival by Belgian beer aficionado extraordinaire Joris Payttn, and carried back to Toronto to await a suitable time for enjoyment. That time arrived on the eve of my 43rd birthday, which was coincidentally also the last evening of a wine class I was taking. Conscious that a bit of celebration was in order, and knowing that all present would appreciate the significance of the bottle I was opening, I thought the evening's close would be an excellent time to pop the decaying cork.
Ah yes, that cork. It worried me, frankly, given the ravages of time it was showing. But in the hands of the self-professed master of old corks, Master Sommelier John Szabo, the class instructor and a friend, it slid out gracefully and intact, revealing a splendid aroma of rich earth and faint cherry pit. Although heavily sedimented, the beer poured fairly bright, with a rusty rose colour and subtle, complex aroma of light fruit, subdued barnyard and horseblanket, very faint ferrous notes, hints of almond and tanned leather, and a host of other elements too numerous to mention. Not only was the cork intact, so obviously - and thankfully - was the beer!
As is the case with so many aged beers, the taste was almost anticlimactic in comparison, although still, in its own right, a real treat. Amazingly, although the beer had lost virtually all of its carbonation and most of its colour, the cherries still asserted their presence in the body, along with a tartness much-mellowed (I would imagine) from the way it originally drank. Other flavour notes present were hints of mandarin orange peel, some raw, earthy character and, of course, the barnyardy funk typical of a beer infected by Brettanomyces. In short, it was a spectacular beer, and the eyes of even those present with literally no prior knowledge of or experience with lambics lit up in amazement.
Used to be that I agreed with Jean-Pierre Van Roy of Cantillon about gueuzes being fine for the cellar, but fruit lambics being better enjoyed young. Now I'm not so sure.
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