I’ve penned this column for nearly eight years, and there are moments when I’ve felt extremely fortunate to be covering local/regional craft beer. Those moments include every time I’ve been invited to the Firestone Walker Invitational Beer Fest, as well as others when I was able to use thinly veiled excuses to spend time with friends as column topics.
Here’s another moment when I am feeling quite fortunate.
Sour Cellars, in Rancho Cucamonga, is a brewery I’ve mentioned at least three times before, and have been wanting for a long time to feature here, due largely to the brilliance of their barrel-aged sour ales. Brewer Bryan Doty and his partner, Chintya Agustin, run the entire operation, which also includes making ciders, wines and meads.
Here’s why I’m so vocal about Sour Cellars, and why I recommend them to anyone who will listen: Lambic-style sour ale is niche and subtle when it comes to both producing and enjoying. This Belgian beer tradition almost died out in the 20th century, but has since come back with world-class producers like Cantillon, 3 Fonteinen, Boon and Oud Beersel, to name a few. They are spontaneously fermented ales that rely on the “house” yeast and bacteria (referred to as “bugs” in the industry) and are usually blended with other batches, with or without added ingredients like fruit. To call this explanation an oversimplification is an understatement, and this style is truly an art. If you’re a fan, you know you’re in the hands of a master when you drink the right beer.
If a batch fails to pan out, you’ve lost more than just the liquid and the time brewing it; you’ve lost potential years of time it spent in the barrel. So imagine my surprise when Doty told me he learned largely through trial and error. As with many brewers, his journey began with homebrew and a copy of Charlie Papazian’s The Complete Joy of Homebrewing, in a quest to make beer for himself on the cheap. But once he began learning about various styles and found out about sour ales, he grabbed a microscope and began isolating his own bugs (some of which he claims were gathered from the Arizona desert) in an attempt to make his own Belgian-style sour ales. He became hooked on the process and opened Sour Cellars to pursue the art professionally.
A brewery like this—situated in an unsuspecting industrial park in the unsuspecting city of Rancho Cucamonga—is an absolute gem of the highest order. I was invited to come and meet him (I’d already met Agustin) and try some of his wares. He handed me a small pour of his crisp, delicious Pannum Pilsner, which is one of his few non-sour beers on tap, and we walked into the brewhouse/barrel room. After asking about his brewing origins, I peppered him with beer-nerd questions for an hour or so; he graciously offered measured responses.
I asked him about recipes; he says he favors pilsner malt for his sours and doesn’t use much of the old, cheesy hops that are traditionally used in the style. He told me he largely uses produce from his home garden (not including hops, of course); is grappling with tweaking the brewery’s membership program, which gives members exclusive access to some beers; and much more. I found him forthcoming and very easy to talk to, as is often the case when beer geeks talk to each other.
But I needed to try the stuff.
I planted myself at the bar, and he poured me batch No. 2 of his cherry wine. He used Lithuanian cherries; you really get that in the nose and palate. Regular readers will know how much of a wine dunce I am, so when I say I quite enjoyed it and his cabernet sauvignon, take it how you will. While I tried the unsurprisingly gorgeous meads like Goldfinch (using orange blossom honey, raisins and spices) and Cosmic Song (a zinfandel-barrel-aged mead with blackberries, mulberries, lavender and more honey for light sweetening), I was immediately reminded of how much I love exquisite meads. Doty seems aggravatingly talented at whatever task to which he applies himself.
After a brief chat with Doty and Agustin about one of her many international trips for the business (Vilnius, Venice and perhaps Paris), I reluctantly departed with three sour ales as very kind gifts. I then made my way to The Hat for lunch (we need one of those here!) and journeyed back home.
Jammiest Bits of Jam is a golden sour ale refermented with boysenberries. It is as advertised—deeply jammy with a moderate tartness, a little funk from the bugs, some vanilla and some oakiness. Nothing’s too complicated, and it isn’t trying to be; it’s just doing its job of delivering delicious boysenberry flavor while not stepping all over the base beer. Lumber House is an adambier, made in collaboration with the great Craftsman Brewing in Pasadena. Adambier is an obscure style from Dortmund, Germany, and with this one at 11.7% alcohol by volume, it’s one of the strongest sours you will find. While there is some warmth, the beer creates an experience of dark fruit, bread pudding, a cherry-like tartness and a little roastiness to make your head swim. And then there’s Clock Stopped, a blend of 1- to 4-year-old barrels that essentially acts as a gueuze. It’s here where I see just how far Doty has come in his brewing and blending journey, because I think this stands up to the best sours in the world—and if you understand my supreme love of Belgian-style sours, you’ll know how much what I’m conveying means. I repeat: The skill and patience involved is a fine art.
In conclusion, just go. They’re lovely people, and they make world-class liquids barely more than an hour away from here. I’m very thankful for their invitation; I can’t wait to go again—and to see what other things Sour Cellars will do in the future.