Sours’ sweet success
Sours are the cool new thing in beer. But they’re really not new at all.
by Peter Bailey

Before the late 19th century most beer was at least a bit sour. And by sour we mean acidic. It was only after Louis Pasteur discovered how fermentation worked that brewers understood the role of yeast and bacteria in brewing. In his 1876 book Études sur la Biére Pasteur identified bacteria as the source of the souring in beer. After that, pasteurization, sanitation and refrigeration helped modern brewers keep unwanted sourness out of their beer.
Some Belgian brewers shrugged and continued brewing the way they had for centuries. For them, sourness was a feature, not a bug. We’re talking old world sours—complex, unique beers made slowly and with care. Lambic is the king of sours, a wheat ale spontaneously fermented by wild yeast, brewed in and around Brussels. Cantillon is the most well-known lambic brewer. Spontaneous fermentation is done by cooling wort (unfermented beer) in a large, flat vessel called a koelschip (coolship) overnight, opening the windows wide to allow wild yeasts and bacteria to act on the beer. It is then transferred to foeders (large wooden vats) where it ferments and ages for many months. The resulting beer is potent and acidic and is usually blended with younger beer to make gueuze, with sugar to make faro, or with fruit to make fruited lambics such as kriek (cherry), framboise (raspberry) or pêche (peach). West from Brussels is Flanders, home of Flanders Red and Oud Bruin. Both are beers soured by aging in oak foeders for two to three years. Flanders Reds such as Rodenbach are tart, funky and fruity. Oud Bruins are malty and sweet. Head west to Germany for two German sour beer styles. Berliner Weisse is a light, fruity, tart, and unaged wheat ale from Berlin. Gose is a tart, dry wheat ale from Leipzig, made with added salt and coriander. Both beers are soured by lactobacillus bacteria.
And the New World? It’s also about lactobacillus, but it’s a whole new ball game. Aging beer for years? Ain’t nobody got time for that! American craft brewers invented a short-cut called kettle souring. Lactobacillus or other microflora are added to the wort as it sits in the brew kettle before boiling. The brewer monitors the pH of the wort as the acidity rises, starting to boil the wort when the desired sourness level is reached. This process is quick, clean and cheap. Purists say kettle sours don’t have the complexity and depth of old world sours. That may be true, but kettle sours are a game changer. My wife hated beer, from pilsner to IPAs to stouts. She tried a Dandy Ales Cherry Sour, loved it and hasn’t looked back. She’s not alone – sours have brought many to beer.
The sour surge shows beer tastes have come a long way in a short time. It wasn’t long ago that the bar manager at my local pub said he was going to remove a local pale ale from the taps. He claimed customers were sending the beer back, saying “It tastes soapy.” My barstool pals and I responded with a drink-in, ordering that beer and only that beer on every visit. Years later we’re still ordering that beer and it remains on tap at the pub. Not all heroes wear capes.
Sour six
Alberta brewers are producing some great sours – mostly kettle sours, but some made traditionally too. Blindman Brewing has made spontaneously fermented beer with a coolship and a foeder. Blind Enthusiasm’s wild ale and sours brewery offshoot, The Monolith, opens this fall.
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