From handpicked Schaerbeek cherries to Kriek Lambic-style beer, our journey starts in deep rich soil and ends in your glass.
Rooted in Dirt
We bought a piece of dirt. More accurately, bottom land with a seasonal creek running through it. It’s 90% silt with a little decomposed granite on the south side, gradually increasing in decomposed granite sand as it approaches the creek bed to the north.
Schaerbeek etymology: Schaer-, from the old Flemmish, to shear, as in sheep; -beek, old Flemmish, for creek. Schaerbeek, or as is often seen with the suffix -se, meaning from…Schaerbeekse cherries are literally the cherry from the creek where the sheep are shorn.
Back to our piece of dirt: good sandy silty bottom land. A patch of heaven made just for cherries. But what cherries to pick? (Pun intended).
I learned in Mrs. Bartlett’s 2nd grade class that yeast turns sugar into ethanol and CO2. I’ve had one fermentation experiment or another going ever since. (If you ignored the splash page age query and are under 21 and reading this, don’t get any stupid ideas). This lead ultimately to trips to Belgium: the beeriest place on earth. Once upon a time I sold beer for Shelton Bros. Dan Shelton imported Cantillon into the U.S. In the mid-2000-teens we (every “we” means my wife and I) had the honor of sipping a glass with Jean Van Roy at Cantillon. We talked cherries. He turned us on to Kris Michielsen who had written a monograph on Schaerbeekse, and who was supplying trees to Cantillon and Dre Fonteinen. You can read about their efforts in 2018 here.
So it’s the age old chicken/egg thing. I’m really not certain which came first: dirt or beer? Did we decide to make cherry beer so went looking for a piece of dirt? Or did we buy a piece of dirt then decide to make kriek?
The dirt! Back in 1994 I sat on a bench at Lyons Valley Trading Post and looked across the street at an enchanted forest. Old oak trees. Windblown piles of oak rip-rap. Forlorn, no job, no money. I felt sorry for myself and never thought I’d be able to afford my own little slice of heaven. Fast forward to 2018, I was at a buddy’s shop. John Baxter said he had some wood down and asked if I wanted to come up and grab a truck load. Turns out, the little slice of heaven I had seen back in 1994 had been owned for 37 years by a friend of a friend. He said talk to your wife, I’ll talk to mine, let’s see if we can agree on a price. Next day, their number was exactly the same as ours. It was meant to be.
Just to confuse things, July of 2019 I was doing some survey work and stumbled into a mile-long stretch of wild cherries growing on a hillside near North San Juan, CA. We considered cultivating this wild California cherry. They were sour. Very sour. With a healthy amount of tannin that would be interesting in a beer. They would have resulted in a truly unique product. And in time, I may very well go back and pull some starts and go down that path. But a few things pulled us toward Schaerbeek cherries. On a trip to Belgium in 2017 we lucked into a 100% Schaerbeek Kriek at Hanssen’s. We did not know it at the time, but cherries for that beer had been supplied by Kris Michielsen. The cherry flavor, aroma, beer color, foam color…the beer was, quite simply, superior to anything we had ever experienced. This beer put Schaerbeek cherries at the top of our list. But we were still undecided. So we continued to gather info.
What clinched it for me was history. Cantillon and Dre Fontenein put out an “All Points Bulletin” asking orchardists to consider planting Scharbeekse. After visiting with Kris, and learning of the 600 year long history of monks picking cherries, donkey cart loads of cherries going to market, and devastation to those cherries caused by the Napoleonic Wars, WWI, and WWII, we were pulled in. We had to help reestablish Schaerbeekse. We imported Schaerbeek cherry trees into the United States and have established our own little orchard in San Diego County, CA. They have a low chill requirement and with the help of irrigation, seem perfectly suited to our climate.
It’s Personal
Duane Stevens, my grandfather, carried a Browning Automatic Rifle for the 97th Infantry Division in WWII. After landing in France, his unit fought through the Belgian countryside. He saw first-hand the devastation this area received. Five buildings were left standing after he left Düsseldorf, a great brewing city. His unit then received orders from General Patton to march across Germany and, in his words, “Save Pilsner beer for the free world.” They met the Russians on the east side of Pilsen three days before VE Day. The people of Pilsen were so happy to have been liberated by the US Army, they rolled out huge hogs heads of dark Czech lager and the classic light Czech lager we know of as Pilsner Urquell today. The soldiers helped roll casks out of the lagering caves below the brewery and they helped the towns people put on a three-day drunk!
My father was killed in Dak To, Viet Nam. Nearly every generation of Stevens has served in the US Army and seen war. And a Halvorson ancestor who came over from Norway fought for Napolean before that. Enough is enough. Time to rebuild. Helping to raise awareness and steward a couple hundred Schaerbeek cherry trees is just one small gesture we can make to give back. To create rather than to destroy.
One generation fights wars
That the next generation might rebuild
So that a third generation may brew and enjoy a good beer
A Note on Sustainability
I see no need to debate whether CO2 is causing global warming. Even a dog knows not to poop where it sleeps. We have one planet. Let’s do all that we can to make as little negative impact on it as possible.
My grandparents on both sides grew up during the Great Depression. They had a commonsense approach to life that carries over into our approach to brewing. We grow our own cherries. We do not use commercial fertilizers that are often derived from fossil fuels. We generate our own electricity with solar panels to heat water, run pumps, and refrigerate. We don’t spray insecticide; turkeys eat the bugs. We get manure and mulch from neighbors for our trees. And we give spent grain to our neighbors for animal feed. So they can give us more manure. We help one another like that. That’s how it’s supposed to be.
I could make some nonsense claim that our beer is better because we have our own well. We do, but the truth of the matter is we have an RO system and break the water down to about 6ppm before adding brewing salts. But unlike almost all breweries with RO systems, we have a 10,000-gallon tank that the wastewater goes into. This is used to irrigate the cherries. The red in cherries requires iron, and they are happy to have water that is a little too high in iron for brewing.
We carbonate by adding a little sugar and refermenting in the bottle. This naturally scavenges any free oxygen from the bottle and results in a more shelf-stable beer that improves over time. This reduces the amount of petroleum derived CO2 we must purchase. We offer a dollar off on your next purchase for empties returned to Lyons Peak Brewery. These are the little things we do to make less of an impact on the planet. These are the things we do to make the best beer possible. We like to think you can taste it in every bottle. I do.
From Orchard to Glass
It’s about friends and family. It’s about giving back. It’s about the real deal.
