Four years ago, when a friend enthusiastically uttered the words "sour" and "beer" in the same sentence, I did my best to force an excited response that matched his fervent sales pitch. In fact, I wasn't really that interested. I'm all for the occasional bag of Sour Patch Kids as a movie snack, but at that point, my palate was fit more for generic yellow beer. Nevertheless, I believe in trying things, so I sipped the brew: Mouth-puckering sour. Not for me.

My beer palette has evolved in the years since that moment. I've tasted much of what our brew-centric state has to offer—hoppy pale ales, balanced IPAs, milky stouts, smooth porters, and wonderfully complex Belgians and barrel-aged beers. All of which have taught me to appreciate brews with more intricate flavors, like sours. Now, when I try a sour beer, the flavors I first perceived as akin to candy covered in cheap sour sugar, now taste fruity, more like sour apples and cherries. I've started seeking out sour beers at bars and restaurants. I tasted half a dozen or so at last year's Great American Beer Festival [2], and found none better than New Belgium's La Folie [3]—a sour brown ale that is aged in French oak barrels for between one and three years before it's bottled. The oak barrels are the same as a vintner would use for wine making. "French oak is a bit more porous than American oak," says New Belgium spokesperson Bryan Simpson. "And the sour bacteria feeds off the oxygen."

Recently, I saw a bomber of the 2012 batch of La Folie on a liquor store shelf and snatched it up (New Belgium releases La Folie throughout the year, but it tends to disappear quickly). I saved the beer to enjoy during a weekend trip to the mountains and was reminded why I fell in love with this particular liquid: La Folie's tart flavor and acidity are complemented by an earthy taste—a truly elegant beer that's one of my favorites, no matter the style.

—Image Courtesy of New Belgium Brewing Company