As clocks tick, concrete crumbles and an acorn becomes an oak. Time affords the world its one guarantee: change.

With alcohol, this change is craft. Young is a pejorative, and so age is valued. Age statements abound on bottles, emphasizing the fullyrounded effect time can have on a product.

This has always been the case. Fermentation itself is a lesson in patience. The history of beer and wine is likely a history of visiting and revisiting to see what is changed and what remains.

Lee LaNoue of the La Noue DuBois Winery in Montrose treats age with equal hands modern sentiment and ancient precedent. The FrenchAmerican hybrids he grows on the vineyard are a relatively modern adaptation to a changing landscape. As such, he sees value in aging his wine gently, in stainless steel, so the unique fruit can shine.

Much of the wine industry is rooted in oak. Oak lends tannin, the naturally bitter and astringent quality often associated with aged red wines. “A new oak barrel,” suggests LaNoue, “can take so much away from a fruity varietal.”

Barrels also have a smaller surface area than steel tanks, and so quicker transformation of the wine, which can drown out any fruit forward nuance. This is desirable for tannin rich reds, but for LaNoue, who prides himself on the estate grown fruits’ subtlety, gentle aging is more appropriate.

Further, oak can be a harbinger of Brettanomyces, a yeast notorious for producing acetic acid (a fault in most winemaking). All the more reason for Lee to lean on steel’s anaerobic nature.

Brettanomyces is, however, an important component in sour beer making. At Cabin Fever Brewing in Paonia, owner and brewer Shawn Larson maintains two separate facilities, in part, to keep the spread of yeast and bacteria at bay, since the brewery carries two imprints under one banner — ale and lager centric Paonia United, and Chrysalis, which specializes in sour beer.

The tasting room is also the barrel house for Larson’s traditional barrel-aged sours. The Brettanomyces and other beneficial bacteria that have, over time, colonized the barrels lend the beer their namesake flavor. The acidity produced during fermentation lends a bright tang that is distinct. But many sours are overbearing, the pucker lacking the balance that the traditional Belgian drink is lauded for.

Larson’s sours, however, are mellowed and rounded by time in the barrel. “I don’t release anything until it’s ready,” says Larson. Often that is after years of sitting in a barrel, where the oak slowly pushes and pulls on the beer. The sour gets less sour, the oak adds some needed richness and depth, and the fruit matures into something more robust.

*Lee LaNoue of the La Noue DuBois Winery in Montrose.*

This notion of timeliness and variability is also inherent in the process of Snow Capped Cider, located on the flanks of Grand Mesa. Cidermaker and owner Kari Williams takes this methodology to the extreme, adjusting timescales according to varietal and elevation. Age impregnates every aspect of the process.

The Blanc Mollet, for example, is a single varietal that spends two years in stainless steel before spending six months in a 10-year Pear Brandy barrel (courtesy Peach Street Distillers in Palisade). Time mellows the bittersweet apple, lending mouthfeel, aroma and flavor.

The value of time spent doesn’t end there. Bottle conditioning is an important step in the process, where Williams can “raise or lower the carbonation in order to trick the palate.” This transformation allows for “hyper expressive” varietals to have decidedly different mouthfeels and flavor profiles depending on the amount of effervescence in the bottle.

Again, this is purely dependent on time, and like her contemporaries, Williams won’t “release a cider until it’s time.” Certain varietals, like the award-winning Kingston Black, take over three years before they even arrive in the bottle, to say nothing of bottle conditioning.

Back at LaNoue Dubois, Lee LaNoue mentions in passing a new, yet ancient foray into aging.

“The Qvevri has a nearly 8,000-year-old tradition in Georgia,” says LaNoue as he muses about his newly purchased earthenware vessels. The ancient method of aging allows wine to age slowly without the necessary exchange of flavors imparted by a barrel. His fruit can still speak for itself, while developing the complexity and depth that time affords.

And when asked how long until he starts producing wine for the Qvevri, linking him to a tradition as old as winemaking itself, LaNoue suggests with a smile, “it’ll take some time.”

Originally published in the Fall 2024 issue of Spoke+Blossom.

Through The Ages: How Western Colorado Brewers + Winemakers Make The Most Of Fermentation