This combination of radically different flavours, textures, and fat content is enough to give anyone other than a world-class Sommelier nightmares.

For a beer connoisseur, it’s easy – give me a good Saison or French Farmhouse ale, and we’re done.

The explosive carbonation lifts the fats off your tongue – goodbye butter. There’s a sweetness in there that plays nicely with the turkey and the sweet potatoes (and brown sugar or marshmallows, depending which way you like to make it).

There’s a sharp acidity in there that laughs at the cranberries, and there is a final sharp snap of bitterness from the hops that scours your tongue, leaving it refreshed and waiting for the next bite.

Wine with my Thanksgiving meal? No thanks! Give me a Saison and I will give thanks

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Beerlicious articles by Stuart Carter, stuart@beerlicious.net is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Around 2pm today I received an email from the wife informing me she’d been to Whole Foods to pick up some essentials and also bought a prepared meal: cajun turkey, sweet potatoes, green beans, and (mixed greens with balsamic vinaigrette) salad.  Nice.

You might not be worthy.

I gave it a little thought and decided to run with some Lindemans Cuvée René with this meal.  Which, by the by, is now available in Alabama.  I’ve no idea how long that has been the case, but it was previously unavailable here in spite of its mere 5% ABV because it was only sold in 750 ml bottles, so our crass 16 oz container limit was keeping it out.  But now they are putting it in 12 oz bottles, and that is the state in which my wonderful wife found it at the Western in Mountain Brook just a couple days ago.

A word about the Cuvée René.  It’s a gueuze, a style that is unfamiliar even to many who enjoy craft beer, and little understood.  It’s a lambic in the truest sense of the style, with no fruit used in brewing.  Many people are familiar with Lindemans sweet fruit lambics such as their Framboise and Peche.  I’m not a fan.  There is a debate among lambic purists with some arguing that the Lindemans fruit lambics don’t fit the historical style norms.  I’m not particularly interested  in arguments among purists over whether a particular beer qualifies for a style descriptor.  I am interested in flavor.  And I’m not fond of the excessive sweetness in the Lindemans fruit lambics.

But Cuvée René.  Ohh the Cuvée René.  What I have heard is that René Lindemans brews everything else for some degree of mass appeal, but this he brews for himself, popular tastes be damned.  It’s his masterpiece.  And it’s very sour and acidic.  Not for the faint of heart.  Or those easily susceptible to heartburn.  It is spontaneously fermented with various wild yeast and bacteria.

The pairing here was excellent.  The “cajun” turkey was only cajun at the skin.  Any bites lacking skin were almost flavorless, so I added a little of the vinaigrette to the turkey to make things interesting.  Considering the vinegary nature of the beer, it magnified the acidity of the dressing.  The sweet potatoes and beans were incredible though.  The sourness of the beer was a perfect contrast to the sweetness of the potatoes.  The green beans were some sort of variety I’ve never had before, and they were off the charts.  Remarkably similar to asparagus in size and texture, but without the stinkiness.   They offered a savory character to the meal, then the salad piled on with more loads of acidity from the vinaigrette.

The acidity was a bit punishing, but I kept coming back for more.  Not entirely unlike extremely spicy foods, which are also punishing but addictive.

You’ve got to know what you’re getting into and be prepared for some sensory overload at times, but this is something I’d repeat.

A blurry cameraphone pic of a clearly good meal.

I was certain this would be a winner, and I wasn’t disappointed.

The sandwich featured some hard salami, thin-sliced smoked turkey, shredded cheddar, and spicy brown mustard, all lightly toasted on a hoagie roll.  On the side were some Zapp’s Voodoo Gumbo potato chips.  What better to accompany such a deli delight than some Rye Pale Ale?

The special edition Zapp’s here were a little disappointing.  They didn’t pack as much punch as the colorful package would lead you to believe.  But still yummy.