To begin this post, I would like to quote a stanza from the Byrds’ 1965 song Turn Turn Turn:

• To everything, turn, turn, turn
• There is a season, turn turn turn
• And a time for every purpose, under heaven
• A time to be born, a time to die;
• A time to clean up exploded beers, a time to finally find Hoegaarden in Vegas.

And so on. This afternoon I rolled over to Lee’s Discount Liquor (the last word is pronounced “Lic’ah”) for some of the Ayinger Brau-Weisse I had planned to review today (great hefe BTW, I’ll do it next). As I have done the past 69 trips to Lee’s, I forlornly scanned the shelves for a hint of that elusive Belgian Wit I came to love last spring in Florida, and have been unable to find in Nevada thus far. And what to my wandering eyes did appear, but four six-packs of the sweet sweet Hoeg, which I instantly snatched up and absconded with like Gary Sinise kidnapping Mel Gibson’s son in Ransom. On that note… what the hell, Mel? Seriously, what the hell?

Hoegaarden is what I would call your benchmark Belgian Wit (which means white, by the way, anyone who tells you it means wheat you punch them squa’ in the face and then steal their wallet and shoes). As mentioned above, I became a fan about a year ago when I was stuck in Florida for three months trying to learn how to fly a new airplane. Spring was blossoming all around and the workload was surprisingly light (“here are the keys to your new jet, don’t f#ck it up” kind of act) and I recall coming back from many a long afternoon run to a cool Hoegaarden (then another… and another) and thinking, this is just about right. Despite its 4.9% ABV, Hoeg is a beer you can get what I call Accidentally Drunk on. As in, “whoah… I’m feeling kind of drunk! When did… what did… how did that happen?”

Oh yeah, the review…. Hoegaarden arrives in a 330mL (11.2 oz) bottle, so if you’re stingy about that last 0.8 oz, reference my earlier comment about the definition of “Wit.” The beer pours a bright, springtime yellow, barely opaque and with a head that naturally seems to rise to just the right size. The aroma is fresh and crisp, just a touch of yeast and citrus fruit. The taste, like the scent, is crisp and refreshing. Lighter than many Belgian white beers but with plenty of complexity. You can definitely detect the bready yeasty flavor but it is not oppressive at all. Then there is a hint of coriander mixed with a splash of orange and lemon. The mouthfeel is light and the aftertaste is basically more of the same bucolic enjoyment. To sum it up, everything is balanced to provide the perfect, refreshing brew for springtime, or any time. And it is finally mine… again.