Drie Fonteinen Doesjel
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This beer is a real snoozer — but that’s a good thing! The name Doesjel, according to the label, roughly translates as “snoozer” in Flemish, in a reference to the young yeasts which have gone dormant and altered the fermentation process.
Drie Fonteinen Doesjel (or 3 Fonteinen Doesjel, if you prefer) is “a blend of one, two, and three year-old lambic, fermented and matured in oak casks by wild yeasts carried on the open air.” If you weren’t snoozing through my previous experience with gueuze, you may remember that gueuze is a blend of young and old lambic. Typically, the younger lambic blend contains sugars and yeasts which create a secondary fermentation in the bottle. But not Doesjel.
The label explains:
“During re-fermentation the younger yeasts have inexplicably gone dormant — knocked off early for a long snooze, you might say — which halts the fermentation, assuring that you will taste the original flavors of the lambic in their purest form.”
My bottle was sealed on February 23, 2006 and the label states it is good for at least ten years after the bottling date — even though it’s only 6% alcohol by volume. It has spent the past couple of months in my basement, resting on its side, and the past two days upright in my refrigerator before warming up to about 50 degrees on my counter top this evening.
I poured it into a small wine glass. The color was orange-gold, maybe two shades lighter than apple cider. There was no foamy head, but the label had warned me there would be none. I was careful not to disturb the yeast, so Doesjel had a very clear pour. Let me tell you — keeping the yeast settled was an amazing feat when you consider the struggle I endured while prying the long cork from the neck of the bottle. Eventually I discovered I could squeeze the wire cage and use to get a solid grip on the cork, but the stubborn stopper still fought me every centimeter.
I was expecting a wild, barnyard aroma to roll off the Doesjel — but that funky aroma was snoozing along with the yeast. Only traces of funk influenced the aroma, with acidic citrus, green apples, and an oakiness dominating the nose. It smelled like an old champagne cork.
The taste is very smooth, with a velvety mouthfeel that slides across your tongue but catches in a sour clutch at the back of the throat. Doesjel is softly tart, but not sour; fresh, green-apples doused with lemon. The taste reminded me of the starfruit my friend and sometimes contributor Marc eats so often.There’s also a hint of vinegar in the aftertaste and a reminder of the funky organisms that sponsored this drink’s existence.
Eventually I swirled the final fifth of the bottle and poured the yeast into my glass. Not surprisingly, the lambic grew dark and quite cloudy. The wild aroma grew stronger, but it was still quite tame compared to other gueuze or sours. Doesjel became more tart and fruity with addition of its yeast, but I was most surprised to discover its hops — old, dry, and whispers of themselves — make an appearance.
Overall, this was a very mild and refined drink. Of the two gueuze bottles I’ve had so far, this was far less challenging to drink, but I’m quite glad I tried the Girardin Gueuze first. It gave me a baseline to understand the style, and it was actually a bit more fun to consume!
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