New Boon geuze in limited edition (5400 bottles) - but this is not just a new geuze, it is a statement, as the brewery itself claims: the name is that of a city official in 16th-century Halle, a tax collector, who left us a document written in 1559 in which allegedly a recipe for lambic is described. A guy working in tourism named Marcel Franssens picked up this recipe in an article he wrote in 1970 about lambic and quoted it as being proof for it being the oldest surviving beer style, an assertion copied by the great Michael Jackson and, later, HORAL, including its founding member Boon - so that, especially with such hugely influential sources quoting it, the story became established as being an official and pivotal element in lambic history. That is, until an amateur historian called Raf Meert sent a shockwave through the lambic establishment three years ago, when he compiled the research he had already been publishing in his blog into a book ("Lambic: The Untamed Brussels Beer") which basically negated most of what everyone in the beer world thinks he or she knows about lambic - including the story of Remy Le Mercier's 16th-century recipe. I recommend purchasing and reading his book for the details, but when it comes to this particular story, Meert basically states that the famous recipe is not for lambic but for a form of witbier because 'lambic' does not appear earlier than the 18th century, the proportions of wheat and barley were incorrectly translated and thus injustly equated with today's proportions, and it does not involve either spontaneous fermentation or barrel ageing. Boon, having advocated the 1559 recipe as a lambic one since the seventies, must have felt Meert's findings as an attack - and came up with this blend of lambics, differing most importantly from any other (today or ever, depending on whom you believe) in that they contain 10% oats, an ingredient indeed mentioned in Le Mercier's recipe. A beer born out of controversy, so to speak, in which Boon aims to demonstrate that it is perfectly possible to brew lambic with oats - actually, historically, proving nothing at all, but the polemics surrounding the book are entertaining enough and so is the appearance of this totally new geuze, of course. Highly pressurised bottle, with foam even creeping out of the bottle neck after opening, but not a gusher in the strict sense of the word. Egg-white, medium sized, crackling, even-bubbled, tightly knit yet gradually diminishing and opening head (though well-retaining around the edge); misty apricot blonde robe with pale orangey glow and lots of tiny bubbles everywhere - in fact less misty than I was even expecting, because it apparently took the beer a lot longer to clear out due to the oats. Aroma of old dried grapefruit peel, dandelion leaves, old wood, shrivelled green apple slices, wood sorrel, minerals, old dry leather, orange pith, dried mugwort, dry earth, rusk, inedible bitter plant seeds, old straw bales. Dry, crisp onset, green plum, dried green apple and some green gooseberry, tart but 'mals' with a very mild lemony touch (milder than average), quite softly carbonated - but still minerally, and doubtlessly that typical 'velvety' effect oats have helps to soften the overall mouthfeel, which is indeed very noticeably smoother and more 'moelleux'. A bread-crusty backbone is strongly dried by lactic acidity and even more by tannic woodiness; deep below, the oats continue to have their softening, even slightly 'slimy' effect and at this point it indeed becomes clear that they mellow the acids too, without becoming actually sweet of course. In the finish, a dandelion-like, deep but long 'old hop bitterness' is strongly developed as well - more so than general in Boon lambics I would add, seemingly as if to counterbalance the softness of the oats... A lovely whiff of retronasal funk (even very superficially manure-like) passes by at that point as well. Controversial as its backstory may be today, this is a relatively accessible, 'malse' geuze, but the trick here is of course that this softness is established by an ingredient never found in lambic - at least today... It may not be historical proof for the marketing-driven story of the 1559 recipe, but it does prove that a fine geuze (if it can still be called a geuze) can be made from oat-containing lambics so who knows, maybe we should let go of the past and look into the future, where perhaps other lambic brewers may become inspired by this 'statement'...

Bottle at the Dovetail, Farringdon, 12/12/2025.
Deep amber topped with a big old lasting beige head.
Nose is herb, stewed fruit, grains, modest funk.
Taste comprises tangy fruits, subtle brett, vinous, hedgerow.
Medium bodied, fine carbonation, drying close.
Not bad.

375ml bottle from AbeerVinum, Rimini, Italy. Pours amber, scarcely transparent, with medium grained white foam. Aroma is funky, fruity, a little citrus peel. Body is average, with a good carbonation. Taste is a mix of some sweetness and delicate sour. Final is average.

A small bottle from the off-licence opposite Jing Mei fire station. Aroma: funky lawn clippings. Appearance: opaque dark honey, big creamy off-white head, dissipating to 2-3mm. Palate: medium-bodied and tart, average carbonation; finishes with a funky afterburn at the back of the mouth. Taste: not especially sour, heavy, dank, good stuff.

The very first in this highly entertaining series of Boon Monoblends, released in 2013, with the main lambic (the one coming specifically from VAT 44 and constituting 90% of the blend) already brewed five years earlier than that. I have followed and loved this series ever since but strangely found that this original one was the only one I had not yet rated here in spite of having tasted it back then - due to the fact that most of my ratings here were imported from Ratebeer, which for some reason aliased this first edition to the VAT 77 edition released in 2014. I do not remember the reason why they considered both editions to be identical, but if all the others (VAT 16, VAT 31, VAT 108 and so on, and so forth) are separate, then it feels only logical to also keep VAT 44 and VAT 77 separate as it is done here - but this of course presented me with the challenge of finding a vintage bottle of the 44 to re-review, for which I cannot thank my beer buddy Bart enough. Needs a bit of forcing to develop a head but once it is there, it remains for the entire session, as an egg-white, densely structured, medium thick, partially breaking but regular, shred-lacing head, over an initially clear, warm old-golden beer with orangey glow and disparate, fine-bubbled sparkling, turning misty further on. Somewhat faded aroma of storage apples, wet wooden boards, unripe pear and unripe green peach, bread crust, yellow curry powder somewhere or perhaps even 'vin jaune', old wool blankets and jute bags, raw courgette, bitter garden weeds, a faint whiff of old dried orange pith and a bit of 'rusty' oxidation upon opening but completely vanishing in an instant (and not returning). Still crisp onset, but in a mellowed way, with lots of unripe stonefruit, wild apple and some gooseberry, only softly tart so notably 'mals' even for a Boon blend; this softness is, for a large part, due to the carbonation having partially dissolved (explaining the forcing needed to obtain a head as well), because even if minute bubbles are still visible in the beer, on the tongue they feel weakened compared with a fresh bottle of any representative of this series. Supple, rounded body, lactic tartness running through a very bready core - tasting more bready, especially in the finish, than when it was young, probably due to dead yeast effects but very agreeable. Astringent woody tannins in the finish, along with this continuing breadiness and mellowed tart fruit effects - with more sharpness coming from the wood than from any of the acids. Adding complexity, however, are a background of Brettanomyces funkiness (Michael Jackson's proverbial horseblanket), with these wild yeasts also having made the beer drier than it was when it was young; in the tail, a deep, 'dark green', earthy bitterness of old hops trails, lingering for a long time after swallowing. Retronasally a brief whiff of this typical 'rusty' oxidation is noticeable for a moment. After twelve years of ageing in the bottle, this blend still displays complexity, but it is clear that the 'sparkle' has faded, due to the flavours in generally having been leveled a bit, the carbon dioxide having escaped in an important degree and some vague and volatile oxidation having set in. Maybe these Monoblends are not the best options for long-time cellaring - after all, their sheer composition of 90% old lambic with only 10% young lambic probably already gives that away. I would not recommend keeping them for any longer than the twelve years this particular sample has been ageing - even those twelve years are already a bit of a stretch if you are particularly fussy about the quality of your lambic. But I am nitpicking here: the lingering effects of bread, sour apples and stonefruit as I am writing this, remaining in the throat long after the woody and old-hoppy effects have slowly disappeared, are highly enjoyable. First and foremost, though, I am very happy to have revisited this one after twelve years - the memory of first getting to know this series is a cherished one, and I admit I like filling in the gap as well, so big cheers to Bart for this bottle!