The cork comes off the bottle with quite a loud pop. It doesn't take long to figure out why. Some lambic is completely still (no carbonation), some borders on Champagne, and the rest falls somewhere between. This one leans moderately towards the effervescent end of the spectrum. A persistent crown of foam tops the plum-colored liquid.
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| Check out that best before date ten years out.... |
The aroma wets the appetite, to put it mildly. The underlying classic sour lambic smell of Granny Smith apples and wet hay is no match for a veritable wave of fruity plum aroma. A slight hint of white wine rounds things out.
Sourness in beer comes in a few different forms of varying intensity. Fruity acidity of all kinds, vinegar-like acidity, mild cider tones, stomach churning, tooth-shredding intensity; there is a surprising variety of sour flavors and degrees of acidity. Tilquin Quetsche is solidly in the fruity-puckering vein of lambic, and fairly intense.
A fruit lambic wouldn't be a fruit lambic without actual fruit, and this beer does not disappoint. In addition to the expected tart apple/apple skin flavors found in all lambic, there is an abundance of plums. Plum flesh, plum juice, it's all here. Very juicy, bordering on Cantillon levels of fruit. I can't imagine how many plums were added per barrel.
The texture is perfect for this sort of beer. It is dry, light-bodied but not airy, and with a very appropriate level of carbonation.
After each sip, I rolled my tongue around the inside of my mouth, over my teeth, around my gums---similar to how one gets flecks of peanut butter off your teeth. There was tart plum flavor everywhere for as long as ten minutes after my last sip. Tilquin made a very elegant lambic here, even better than their unfruited one in my opinion.
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