Confounded Mr. Sisyphus

Beer Style: Belgian Pale Ale w/ Balaton cherries
ABV: 7.0%
IBUs: 50
Color: A bit pink, golden
No Spices!
NOTE: THIS BEER IS NOT AVAILABLE ANY MORE

We brewed this beer as a single batch in 2009, our first full year of brewing.
We only brewed it once, then we decided not to do it again. It’s hard to say why, except it seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe we’ll make it again one day.

Anyway, for the sake of history, here is our description:
Confounded Mr. Sisyphus is a subtle beer, full of yeast, bacteria, leafy hops and grains. Mr. Sisyphus’s roots are Vienna-style lager malts, which give a golden orange colour and a malty nuttiness. Light esters and phenols from four strains of yeast give fragrance, and a malolactic bacteria has softened the acidity during conditioning and will continue to do so in the bottle. At his extremities you’ll find herbal German Hallertau and American Crystal hops, like leaves basking in the sun. Finally come Balaton cherries, with their spicy, musty, earthy character.

This is a beer to drink at sunset, be it in the quietness of a darkening forest or with the stillness of the city surrounding you. We even wrote Mr.S his own bedtime story…

“A gentle breeze blew through the forest. The leaves fluttered, and the ripe cherries on the Sisyphus tree bumped against one another. Then all was still. A tiny, contented sigh then came. It would only have been audible to a bird close by, or perhaps a child standing amongst the blossoms near the ground. But a sigh it was, and a most extraordinary sigh, for it came from Mr. Sisyphus.

If you stand at the bottom of the Sisyphus tree, close in beside the trunk where leaves surround you, and gaze up into its depths, you might notice that amongst all the cherries hanging there, one is not quite the same as all the others. Perhaps you will notice a tiny foot, a twig-like hand, or even, if your crane your neck, an eyeball twinkling there amongst the hanging balls of fruit. Unpluckable, never picked by hand, nor pecked by bird, nor pitted and preserved in a pie. Never to fall gently and bounce on soft moss, to be planted and grow again. For there hangs Mr. Sisyphus, the cherry who cannot fall.”