Nouvelle-France Messagère Aux Fruits

Reviewed by on July 2, 2014 in Gluten-Free Guide

The Details

  • Brewery: Microbrasserie Nouvelle-France

  • Origin: Saint-Alexis-des-Monts, QC, CA

  • Rated On: July 1, 2014

  • Best Before: December 2, 2014

  • ABV: 4.7%

  • Ideal Temperature: between cold and cellar temperature

  • Style: Fruit Beer

  • Rating: OKAY

The Review

The Nouvelle-France brewery has recently come out with a fruit version of their regular gluten-free ale.  Made with rice, buckwheat, black currant, cherry, raspberry, elderberry, apple, pear, and plum juice. Wow, that’s a metric Québec tonne of fruit!

This 341ml bottle pours a clear, bright magenta colour, with one skinny finger of weakly foamy, and very fizzy pale pink head, which leaves little beyond a few wayward pricks of remote islet lace around the glass as it quickly abates.

It smells very much like Swedish berries – that candy bin staple of grocery and convenience stores alike – an uncertain fruity cooler maltiness, a subtle, but growing vegetal astringency, cheap sugar additives, and plastic phenols. The taste is some much-lessened mixed red berry fruit, a rising vegetal and acrid grainy, er, ‘malt’, metallic artificial sweetener, musty earthy yeast, and a thankfully wispy plastic solvent, well, note.  The bubbles are quite frothy, and more than a tad fizzy, the body barely, but just, in the southern realm of medium weight, and more smooth than I might have expected, though with too many vacillating influences to denote here. It finishes still a bit fruity, in both natural and unnatural ways, with the lingering maltiness definitely leaning heavily towards the latter.

I guess all you have to do to bring your serially underwhelming G-F brews out of the dregs, to a barely average, but still relatively improved state, is dump a bunch of Canada Cooler-worthy fruit all over things. The rather numerous and different fruits who gave themselves to the offering are like a mask, something merely temporarily obfuscating the horrors underneath. Oink, oink, where’s that lipstick?

Brady White



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