Another Kind of Red

Uncorking a bottle of Rodenbach Grand Cru for the first time, you might be tempted to ask, "Do I drink this or sprinkle it on my salad?"

Don't be intimidated by the sharp, almost vinegar-like aroma, a common trait of the Flanders sour red ale style. You'll find these beers complex, thirst-quenching and food-friendly. They're remnants of an earlier era when brewers aged their beers in unlined wooden vessels; microorganisms residing in the wood, particularly lactobacillus and wild yeasts, joined in the fermentation and made their own flavor contributions.

Flanders red ales are fruity, with cherry being the most common descriptor. You might also detect a little sour apple, raspberry or cranberry in the Rodenbach. Those flavors come from fermentation byproducts called esters and from acedic acid and lactic acid (also a component in yogurt). A wild fermentation can be unpredictable, so brewers try to achieve consistency by blending the contents of different vessels.

Specialty malts are responsible for the ruddy color, which ranges from deep amber to burgundy, and add a caramely sweetness. Hopping is minimal in these beers, but contact with the wood results in a dry, mouth-tingling tannic taste.

The Rodenbach Brewery in Roeselare, Belgium, is the largest producer of Flanders red ale. The brewery is famous for its immense wooden tuns, some of which can hold 500 barrels and the oldest of which have been in use for 150 years. Ordinary Rodenbach is a blend of young and well-aged beers. The Grand Cru, however, consists entirely of ale that has spent 18 months in the wood.

Sadly, our supply of Rodenbach is rapidly being depleted. Palm Breweries, a larger company that owns Rodenbach, shut down the pipeline four months ago. Bart Brits, a spokesman for Palm, said by e-mail that "we are very close in concluding a new import agreement with a new partner in the U.S." and predicted that Rodenbach would return "very soon now."

Larry Bennett, marketing director for Duvel Moortgat USA (Rodenbach's former importer), said his company is contracting with the Bockor Brewery in Oudenaarde, Belgium, to brew a red ale similar to the Rodenbach Grand Cru. The draft-only beer, Ommegang Rouge, is in the distribution pipeline and should reach the market shortly.

In the meantime, we can turn to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, available in four-packs of 11.2-ounce bottles from the Verhaeghe Brewery in Vichte, Belgium. The label depicts Mary of Burgundy, a 15th-century princess who died at age 25 after falling from her horse. The Duchesse is a little more rounded than the Rodenbach beers, with an herbal, cherry cough drop aroma and a candy apple sweetness to offset the tartness.

Brasserie Beck on K Street NW is the exclusive local purveyor of still another Flanders red ale: Bacchus, from the Van Honsebrouck Brewery in Ingelmunster, Belgium. It's a gentle and subtle example of the style, with the sour and sweet caramel flavors in balance and a nutty, dry finish.

The beer is available on draft only, but the restaurant's beer sommelier, Bill Catron, thinks the brewery might launch a bottled version in the United States to take advantage of Rodenbach's absence. Bacchus costs $8 a glass, but at Brasserie Beck on July 21 (Belgian Independence Day), all draft beers will be available for half-price.

A few adventurous U.S. breweries are experimenting with their own interpretations. La Folie from Colorado's New Belgium Brewing Co. (best known for its Fat Tire Amber Ale) doesn't travel this far east. However, tiny Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales in Dexter, Mich., which produces fewer than 800 barrels a year, does manage to ship small amounts of its La Roja to more than 40 states and the District.

The microbrewery's name is purely whimsical; founder Ron Jeffries doesn't make a pumpkin ale. His sense of humor also shows up on the label, which features a swashbuckling cartoon cat.

Aged in barrels that formerly held bourbon and other spirits, La Roja is a little stronger than the Belgian red ales (it's 7.2 percent alcohol by volume). It has a sharp lactic aroma, with bready, spicy and caramel notes and a lingering woody finish that's almost like gnawing on a twig. There is a faint bit of hop as well.

What foods match up with sour red ales? Catron recommends a salad with balsamic vinegar and goat cheese. In his book "The Brewmaster's Table," Garrett Oliver suggests that these beers would pair well with anything you'd normally squirt a lemon on: calamari, for instance.

Jeffries advises "robust" meat and fowl. And it's true that duck in a fruit sauce, washed down with a tart red ale, might be as close to perfection as you'll find in the world of beer cuisine.

Greg Kitsock's Beer column appears every other week. He can be reached at food@washpost.com.