I cracked a Cantillon Iris the other night after holding on to it for several months. It’s an unblended lambic, meaning this particular style is the original lambic. The Iris did not disappoint: really lovely lighter medium orange color with lots of carbonation. Fluffy, super fizzy off-white head that starts off aggressive and then fades pretty quickly. The head sparkles so much you can hear it. Smell is true to lambic funkiness and wonderful sour white grapes with a woody background. This is seriously drinkable, the flavor is much lighter than the color or aroma suggest. Sour white grapes and lemon in the flavor with a lemony acidic aftertaste that is pleasant. The mouthfeel is bright and fizzy. Loverly simply loverly. The Iris is a great example of the all-encompassing beer: the bottle, the label, the beer, the aroma, flavor and the sound it makes from popping the cork to the sparkling pour — all senses are stimulated.
This is a beer style that has become a serious personal favorite. The bottles, the labels and the good stuff inside make it an all around hit. Unfortunately, when confronted with sharing these behemoth 750s my alter-ego beer geek comes out in full force. So embarrassing. I wax rhapsodic about the wild yeast only found in Brussels and in the precious aging barrels of Cantillon, how only this area produces this style. I end up talking off some poor soul’s ear for a solid 45 minutes then realize I just exposed the dorkiest side of me. Everyone beware, don’t ask about the lambic you can’t believe is a beer you’re drinking unless you’re down for a big fat dose of geekdom.
Sounds like the girl of my dreams.
I’m so with you on this. I love the lambic and most people who find this out the hard way hate how much I love it