At a recent semi-clandestine beer-drinking party, a great deal of heft was dealt in the direction of remembering. As you now come to expect, your fave Knives wax water-eyed about drunken memory with great consistency (like, all the time). After all, sense and its lasting sensations generate the most inspirational data we cull to craft our slobbery missives about the beers we, well, love. This past Sunday, a gang of 60 witnesses watched four prominent brewers drink their own beer atop a mellow platform and fall quite amicably into the same, sweet-hearted dope zone that we do whenever we write about ale.
Of what insane beer meeting do we speak? Take a pause to sip a beverage, and read this. You done? Cool.
Like, without being TOO serious, we turn our toasted scope North. Logsden Ales, maker of Cerasus kriek, are a shimmering example of the idealism that is fermenting around us in LA. Beer, thankfully, is HUGE now. But not every producer in the yellow signed liquor shop can boast the same qualitative Majesty as the glass of bubbles pictured above.
Produced by one of the originals at Full Sail Brewing, and who’s life partner founded one of the most prominent yeast labs in the world, anything produced out of this literal farmhouse is unfair in its goodness of character and quality. You know that one kid in college who was so nice it was scary? That’s Logsden. All of it. These beers verge and/or dilly-dally on the Whole side of Wholesome. They could give milk.
Composed of 100% Oregon Tilth Certified Ingredients, these beers are basically made Platonically. House-cultivated yeast strains. Well water. An actual Barn where the brewing takes place. Longhaired Scottish Highland cows (that still have their horns) romp about, munching on grass and waiting for spent grain from brewing. The two pounds of cherries used for every gallon of beer? Yeah those are from a small orchard of Sharbeekse Krieks – you know, the cherries that they grow and use in East Flanders for making beer. They imported, quarantined and grafted them on local cherry trees just so the beer would be right.
Coming to a point: Cerasus fucking rules. This is a beer to seek out, hoard or share whenever possible and hopefully with great frequency. For us, the flavors teleport us back to the time we gave Duchess de Bourgogne a second chance (the first time it was too weird for our freshly post-teen palates). Unlike Mary the Rich’s namesake, Cerasus is notably light on the palate and less heavy handed on the sweet and syrupy. Slight copper and/or blood notes zip around after teeny tiny bubbles scrub up most if not all of your gross tongue papillae. Those Belgian cherries sing though the layers of year-old, ale-sopped wood, all tinged with a bacterial edge that whispers micro-floral magic into your brain.
Time stands still and we’re in Galco’s in 2007 brushing shoulders with Mike Meanstreetz for the first time. All because a couple of nerds who knew everything decided to make their work as specific and hard as possible every step of the way. We remember the first time we had Rodenbach. The first time we had Chez Monieux. The first time we had Oude Tart. The first time we had Yearling. The first time we had Ursa Minor. We remember how we once never liked barrel aged beer and now it possesses us like a delicious parasite.
We sincerely hope you let this nice guy bite you.