Beer Blog

2006-07-23T01:25:00.000-07:00

A new beer that has recently appeared on the shelves with little fanfare is Mort Subite's Oude Gueuze a l'ancienne, which in essence means it is a traditional gueuze made with a portion of aged lambic. What makes this significant is not the quality of the beer itself, which is average as far as gueuzes go, rather its the fact that it is the first new authentic lambic to be marketed in Belgium since 2003 with the introduction of De Cam. This beer has been available exclusively at the Mort Subite cafe in Brussels where it is served in 75cl bottles as "Gueuze sur Lie".

Oude Gueuze is available at a variety of everyday grocers in Brussels along with their diluted and sweetened gueuze, frambois, kriek and peche. Though not as bad as the Belle Vue brand, these fruit lambics are not for the connoisseur.

My own tasting notes indicate an accomplished gueuze on the dry side, with good acidity but lacking in depth and complexity. The beer doesn't stay on the palate very long like the better gueuzes do. It is worth a try, but I wouldn't go out of my way for it.

2006-06-07T23:13:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've blogged about beer, but here's a few good rare
beers that one should look out for, but don't expect to find them outside of the their respective areas that frequently.

I've noticed a surge in popularity of Saison-style beers with lower alcohol and a crisp bitterness. This is welcome to me since big beers can grow tiresome very fast if you aren't up for swift buzz. One of these comes from a rather new brewery called Brasserie de la Senne and is called "Betchard". It comes in 75 CL bottles and weighs in at 5.5% alcohol by volume, which means even the wussiest of beer drinkers should be able to polish one off by him or herself. It's got a bright golden glow to it with a haziness that starts the mouth watering right away. The aroma is stiff, spicy and slightly wild, somewhat like an Orval. It is lively in the glass, but the head was nothing to scream about. What I liked about sipping this beer was the long hop character that was never to strong, but strung out on your toungue like falling spider: smooth as silk, but you just never know where its going to go, or when its going to stop. This is a promising beer from a brewery that makes a few more beers that I have to try.

The beer that is pleasing my palate as I write this is from Lorraine, picked up on a trip to Burgundy over a long weekend during which we had to make an emergency stop in the lovely city of Nancy, probably the most underrated city in France. This one is called the Duchesse de Lorraine and owes a lot of its style to an Amber bock. It is just that, Amber, super malty, but dry with just enough hops to keep the finish alive. It is a great Spring beer and again at just 5.5% one that I would drink lots of could I find it here in Belgium. It is brewed by Les Brasseurs de Lorraine (www.brasseurs-lorraine.com) who make a number of other beers, one of which I have in my cellare and hope to review shortly.

2006-01-17T11:59:00.000-08:00

The second installment of my blonde analysis features 3 samples with quite different characteristics. They might look similar and saturate your brain at about the same rate, but they couldn't be any more different from each other if you pay attention to the details hidden behind the lustrous golden hue.

The first one on the list is by far the worst of the lot. Abbaye des Bonne Esperance by Brasserie Lefebvre, the makers of the Floreffe range which has severely deteriorated since it sent me into orgasmic shock once in the early nineties, left me feeling a bit empty inside. This one had a deep hue, more of a dishwater blonde than a true specimen. It had a malt balance without so much as a whisper of hops, yet the malt seemed lacking, hence leaving the beer as a whole lacking in kind. Overall I would describe the flavor as crisp and perhaps masked without any defining characteristics. Following all this up in the finish was a mildly unappetizing tartness that smacked of heavily diluted apple cider vinegar. Now the more astute reader might point out correctly that I had rated this beer four gleaming stars once upon a time. This is true. I had it in a 14th century cellar bar in Tournai a few years back when it was a new line and came only in 75cl corked bottles. The beer has recently shown up the local grocer in 33's and seems to have lost a few of its dimensions.

Corsendonk Agnus is a blonde only because it fits the bill but says nothing of its pedigree on the bottle. An Abbey beer by marketing status, it can often be found in its original half-rubbed-off painted bottles rather than the later paper incarnations. This is a beer that, maybe due to its slightly higher price, I've passed over many times while grabbing my fix. No more will this one fly under my radar. A bright yellow-gold in color with a fluffy head and beaucoup aroma, it is just begging to be downed like a Pabst or two in 1 inch tubing. Actually, its in a different class altogether and shouldn't come into contact with automotive grade polyethylene at any stage in its consumption. A bready, honeyish aroma wafts pleasantly from the froth and again on the palette as it passes smoothly over it. Another malt-balanced blonde, but this time with much more to fill in the gaps. It finishes a bit thin, but not in a negative way, more in a refreshing gotta-have-another-sip sort of way. The other aspects to the beer are the delicious citrus notes and a mild tartness to accompany them. Not an outstanding beer, but one worth a serious sampling to enjoy a fresh perspective on blondes.

Though not admittedly a blonde, St. Bernardus Triple doesn't really attain enough strength to enjoy true triple status at a mere 7.5% by volume. A fine beer by any standards, however, and one which deserves a sampling if you can find it. This one pours a bit flatter than most and seems to blow chunks into the glass no matter what you do. These only add to the rustic allure of its off-color robe. This one borders on Amber, but as enough true blonde appeal to hang out with them. In fact it's more of a light, light, light brown than anything else. It assaults the nose with honey and sweet spices such as nutmeg while going all-out malt and honey on the palette. It is extremely soft in the process and finishes clean without too much distinction. It is loaded with short-term flavor however and more than satisfies.

Now for an entry from the Barbarian half of Belgium, the Flemish, who have a truckload of blondes themselves. A beer that might easily fool an unsuspecting tool like myself is HAPKIN (8.5%) from the corporate giant Alken Maes. An endorsement from Michael Jackson on the bottle sells it shamelessly. Michael states "HAPKIN has a very good, fresh, flowery Saaz hop aroma; a very big creamy head, a soft malt character, and a spritzy, perfumy fruitiness drying toward the finish." Now, my mom taught me that if you can't find something nice to say then don't say anything at all. When paid, however, it is of course acceptable to make stuff up that sounds nice. I imagine Michael's spew here wasn't an entirely soulful analysis based on my humble first impression. Replace "fresh and flowery" with "sulfury and green" and we begin to approach the truth. Perhaps with a bit more time in the bottle this will subside, but this is a bottom-shelf blonde, not one from the connoisseurs corner. Though somewhat malt-balanced it has a distracting hop flavor that doesn't really work well with the overall theme. It is more of a sharply oxidized flavor than a spritzy, perfumy fruitiness. There is nothing remotely like that in this beer and should be stricken from the record. In fact, I've already spent too much time writing about this beer and will gladly end it here.

2006-01-09T09:33:00.000-08:00

In Belgium and France beer consumers, and certainly brewers, are not as concerned with styles as one might be in the U.S. or even Germany. Often styles refer to nothing more than a beer's relative strength, as in the dubbel and triple designations, yet these style designations have come to imply other more specific characteristics, even ingredients, based on a particular beer that exemplifies the style. Westmalle's Trappist beers a perfect examples of this; Westmalle Triple is by far the most common triple on any Belgian menu and is truly a world class beer. It is however, not the only excellent triple and recipes for triple shouldn't be limited to the "one malt one hop" style that appears so commonly in the literature. Another misconception is that triples are inherently underhopped, but one sip of a fresh Westmalle triple will squash that notion.

At least one major style category, and probably the most confusing of the lot, is based on how the line is marketed. I refer to the well known Abbey classification which includes names such as "Pater" and "Prior" that do nothing to help the consumer. Does an Abbey beer have to be strong? Does it have to be a certain color?
No, it can be whatever it wants to be within reason; you will never see a sour beer or a stout masquerading as an Abbey beer. Another common type of style category is based on general color, as in the Blondes and the Brunes. These are everywhere in Belgium and often a brewery will only produce these two styles along with a seasonal or two.

One of my favorite styles is the Blonde (Blond in Flemish). I really love this beer for a number of reasons. The most important reason for me is that I know it is going to be good 90% of the time. The comptetion in this category is fierce and brewers know this. There are so many good blondes out there that one can easily go to a specialty store and walk out with 20 different labels and usually find a couple of new ones in the lot each time. All of them will be drinkable, only a few of them will not be worth drinking again. A lot of beers that are blondes call themselves something else which adds even further to the crop. If a blonde is not obvious by the name, such as "Super des Fagnes Blonde", often it will at least throw you a bone with the tag "Bière Blonde" somewhere on the bottle.

Reason number 2 is that Blondes exemplify the finest qualities a beer can posess, in my opinion. The brewing technique must be sound as it is impossible to get away with defects. A proper balance between hops, malts, and herbs must be achieved or the whole thing collapses. Finally, the beers often let the essential malt character shine through, accented nicely by fermentation by products, spices, hops and often a little house character.

Reason number 3 is that they are beautiful to look at, often cloaked in a deep golden robe that one rarely sees outside Germany, Belgium or France. American beers and the British styles they are based on are mostly either amber and up or the color of a barfly's urine. Blondes can be anywhere from the color of Budweiser to a soft peachy amber color, yet the deepness of color does not imply a corresponding richness of flavor. A straw-colored Bush Blonde at 11% has more than enough flavor to sip cautiosly for an hour.

In the following articles I'm going to highlight some of my favorite blondes and recommend some other blonde's with similar characteristics that, if you like beer A, you might also like beers B, C, and D. I certainly won't get through all the blonde's in Europe but I'm sure it will be more than enough to keep your cellar full.

The Blonde I'm drinking while I write this is a sample from Lorraine in France called "La Bière a frometon - Bière a Fromage" which is a curious name that means, of course, "Beer with Cheese". I guess this implies that it should be eaten with a good French cheese, of which there is no varietal shortage in these parts to stimulate the senses. I picked it up at a market in Metz for about 6 Euros (750ml corked bottle).

The beer has a lovely golden hue with a fluffy white head that lasts reasonably well. The aroma is of high-quality malt and baking spices: vanilla and nutmeg specifically. There is virtually no hop aroma. The first quality that I notice when sipping it is the mouthfeel, which is substantial and yet soft enough to work with the flavors. It immediately seemed to have a bit more body than most blondes I've had the pleasure of knowing. The flavor does not disappoint. It evolved over the 3 glasses I've poured from slightly astringent to spicy and mildly tart, and finally to soft and malty with a lasting aftertaste of sweet spices. In these flavors are to be found the heart and soul of a blonde, a beer that can yield so much from so little in the kettle. Honest malt character, a hint (and I mean just a hint, perhaps a suggestion) of acidity, honey, citrus, vanilla and yes a mere presence of hops to balance it all out. Other beers with the same general characteristics that I would recommend are Barbar, Biere des Ours, and Quintine Blonde to name but a few. More to come in other tastings.

Santé!

2005-11-08T11:42:00.000-08:00

The Authentique Brasserie in Blaton, Namur Province, is a brewery with a very standard range of styles and a rather bland label. I had not seen these labels before on the shelf, nor had I seen them on any menus, so I figured I'd take the plunge and buy the whole series. A typically unsystematic and highly qualitative review of the beers willl surely follow. I don't plan on drinking them all in one sitting, however, so I can assure a relatively centered approach.

Blonde - Alc. 6.9%
Apparently inpired by some of the best blondes in the region, and it has fairly stiff competition to be sure, this one is a joy. The head didn't exactly make me want to nap in it like some, but it had a nice carbonation level with a decent fluff. the aroma was of malt and honey, while the flavor rolled over my tounge with much of the dry, malty, ever-so-slightly fruity and bready character of a Saison style, though this is still far enough away from that style to retain a simple blonde designation. Few hops, and a lasting honeyish aftertaste support that as well and make for a highly drinkable product.

Ambrée - Alc. 6%
Inspired by some of the more average ambers in the country, this one just didn't seem to do it for me in any way. Dry but not hoppy, smooth but not malty, and spicy but not interesting, it is one that I certaily wouldn't recommend seeking out. It must be a flavor profile that some folks like as there seems to be plenty of ambers like it around, but I don't know these people.

621 (Brune) - Alc. 7%
A light and mildly fruity brune with the requisite amount of carmelized candy sugar, but also with 6 different malts. It is a classic example of underachievement with over-use of ingredients. Why use 6 different malts when you can get more flavor from one? It is a very well-balanced and drinkable beer, but doesn't give you anything you couldn't find in 200-odd other beers out there.

Triple - Alc. 9.5%
Quite frankly the easy winner of the lot, and not just because it is full of flavor, but because it is just different enough from other triples to seek out and try. The head was a disappointment, and a stout chill haze marred the view, but sweet spices jump out of the nose and leave a distinct aftertaste on the palate. The body is firm and full of malt. I like this and would recommend it to anyone looking for a solid triple.

What does age do to a Liefmans Goudenband?

2005-10-22T07:34:00.000-07:00

Liefmans Goudenband has been a bit of a mystery with its inconsistency and promise wrapped up in white tissue and corked. A legendary beer that has undergone minor renovations with Riva, it may not be what it used to be, but it is still a world class beer. Unlike the lighter Oud Bruin, Goudenband is a strong beer of 8% and aged and blended to yield a buttery smooth brown ale riddled with subtle character that makes it so much more. It can be tart, vinous, citrusy, or toffeeish and caramely, depending on the bottle. This is of course, is a positive quality to many craft beer lovers who appreciate the anticipation, rather than the expectation, that comes with opening each and every bottle.

I left a bottle in my cellar for 18 months and decided to open it today. I wondered all that time what might be going on behind that fine, twisted paper. Was it growing sour, or turning into cardboard? Was it truly alive in the bottle or was the sediment just a token? I got part of my answer as the cork launched across the kitchen ahead of a plume of beer before I had the last twist unwound. The odd thing was that it didn't continue to gush after opening like most gueuzes that I leave in the cellar a bit too long. There was still plenty of nectar inside the bottle to answer my long-awaited questions. So, how does this Goudenband, awoken so violently from an 18 month slumber, actually taste?

The first impression, coming from the nose of course, was a tad disappointing; It seemed that some of the fine aromatics of the beer had been lost or perhaps masked over time. The first taste, however, was far from regrettable. Even through the lively CO2 I recognized all the vestiges of a young Goudenband. The soft, vinous, ever-so-slightly-tart, caramely, buttery goodness was all there, only better. The mouthfeel was oily-smooth with a medium carbonation. After a while of settling, there wasn't a shade of alcohol anywhere in the profile and I couldn't find a flaw to speak of. Not many beers can stand up to the test of time and actually improve upon their basic flavor profile, but this aged Goudenband has and truly has few peers in the world of beer.

2004-10-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

Here's an entry for a couple of fine beers that left me quite satiated this evening.

Liefmans Oud Bruin is a classic Oudenaards brown ale of medium strength with a soft fruity sourness that washes away with few relics to remind you of its wonderful yet ephemeral passing. It starts out winey, then its oh-so-soft body rolls over into gentle tarness that quickly gives way to a latent sweetness. The aroma is of pears and banana. I really like this beer and wonder why this is my first time tasting it. Better by far than the Burgogne des Flandres, and slightly more interesting than the Petrus Oud Bruin, this beer would do fine as a regular old brown sipper.

Before the Liefmans I consumed, rather uneventfully, an Ambiorix Dubbel from a brewery nearby in Ninove. It was bone dry and accented with caramel and bit of dark chocolate. The aroma was nothing to write home about, but it did have a great frothy head that clung to the glas like seracs off a glacier. At 8%, I had hoped for a bit more lustre. Not one I would go out of my way for again.

2004-10-24T06:34:00.000-07:00

With a cellar freshly stocked full of beer, its hard to go an hour without thinking about what awaits my palate at the end of each day. Especially when you come across a few of the gems that I have in the last few weeks.

Felix Special Oudenaardse Oud Bruin truly impressed with a rich brown ale character layered with sour winey tones and a touch of bitterness. This one was supposed to have gone under with Leroy brewing, but it appears to have been revived by Cnudde, which is a small East Flanders brewery in the enclave of Oudenaarde.

It seems it odd that I have been here over a year without trying Ginder Ale, considering I owned the glass for 10 years and never once tried the beer. I finally did the other day, and this Interbrew product would be a fine easy drinking ale anytime. Fruity yet dry with a subtle spicy wink at the end, this was a classic example of highly attenuated Belgian pale ales.

A bit more demanding was the Oud Zottegems pale ale, which tasted a lot like Martins pale ale. It has a powerful malt base and a spritzy hop finish. Highly enjoyable with the weight to make it a fairly leisurely drink.

In the meanwhile, Angelia and I split a game of cribbage.

2004-10-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

Angelia and I got out of town this weekend and spent a day and a night in a turn of the century "Belle Epoque" village on the coast called De Haan. The town was cool, but its beer bar was even cooler and fully merits noting in this blog.

Its beer selection squeezed more variety out of 150 labels than I could have imagined, and the beers were stored at correct temperature in the bar's cellar. Only the tap beers were too cold. Quite interestingly it had a Spanish name, El Torre, and offered a chic, trendy atmosphere with fine, creative dining at very reasonable prices. Anyway, the beers I sampled that had not previously washed my palate were Dupont Bier de Miel, Abbaye des Rocs, and Dupont Cervesia. All three were outstanding, and I will offer each of them my full respect.

Dupont Cervesia is a strong 8% abv Saison style ale with one of the most intriguing and balanced hop flavors I've ever had. Subdued by American standards, but bitter by Belgian ones, this beer is easily in my "top 5 most enlightened beers" list. It starts hoppy, then flutters through pockets of malt, fruit and citrus before gradually fading out with an herbal, hoppy dryness. I was usually headed back for another sip before this disappeared. Probably hard to find anywhere, even here.

Abbaye des Rocs is a massive brown ale of 9% abv that is, along with Rochefort, Carolus, Watou and Dolle one of the leaders in this category. Drinking this beer is like stuffing your mouth full of chocolate covered raisins. Angie said she thought it finished with coffee. I've got one of these bad boys in my cellar in a 750 ml bottle and I may just have to get myself a few more.

Dupont Biere du Miel is a honey flavored beer made by one of the best breweries in the world. Though I never tasted, or even smelled, honey I could certainly appreciate the flower from which the honey was born - orange blossom. The flavor of orange and cream balanced by a woody dryness lived up to the reputation of this brewery's other beers. Angelia described it as "like sucking on the stick of a creamsicle after you finished it." I admit, it was the most succinct beer review I ever heard.

Cheers!

2004-09-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight is Wednesday, which of course is one of the best days to have a taste-off of a few local beers. Tonight's event will put a few garden variety triples from the local grocer face-to-face in what I anticipate will be a heated bout of mediocrity. The contestants include Leffe Triple, Grimbergen Triple, and Florival Triple (brewed under contract for Del Haize Grocery chain.)

As a side note, the beer I'm drinking right now is Augustijn Grand Cru, a beer I've overlooked ever since I arrived here. Now I know that there was good reason for that. It isn't bad, its just not very good. It is quite pale in color (paler than most triples), mildly phenolic in the nose and aftertaste, and though it has some light citrusy and malty notes, these flavors don't satisfy the psyche on the 300 or so dark, moist evenings in Belgium. I'd go with a Hoegarden GC any time.

And here are the actual test data. KC is myself, AC is my wife Angelia

Beer	KC	AC
Leffe Triple	Simple yeasty aroma with clean malt and candi sugar up front and sweet spice in the finish.	a bit of a pilsner flavor to it. A hint of cardboard to round out the palate.
Grimbergen Triple	dry malty aroma, with a bit of DMS as it warms. but not much there. Full, sweet flavor with vanilla and a honey cream note. Almost like a liquer.	Has a Duvel flavor that she likes.
Florival Triple	Malty aroma with a hint of cardamom. Subtle hops in the background. Massive malt up front, with a good balance of hops reigning it in. Drier with a touch of astringency.	Hoppy with a bubble gum aroma.

Overall, we were surprised by the character of these beers. The Florival and Grimbergen were definitely the best, with thick creamy heads and lots of flavor, but the Leffe certainly held its own with a different interpretation of the style. Of all of them, I'd buy the Florival again as it was the most balanced of the lot. All three of these were better than the Augustijn Grand Cru I opened earlier.

Well, there it is.

2004-09-25T02:59:00.000-07:00

It is quite refreshing to realize that I can spend an evening in my neighborhood drinking beers that I have neither tasted nor seen in any of the local stores, and that reassure me of the vibrancy and ecclecticism of Belgium's brewing scene.

Last night, the Friday of a particularly gruelling week, I visited l'Atelier (The Dealer), a beer bar with the singular purpose of keeping its patrons happy with over 200 beers on a carefully chosen and broad list hung imposingly on the wall. Kumar, with whom I was drinking, could probably have consumed a beer casually while I studied the list carefully, making sure my first beer counted. My attention was drawn to a label that I had not heard of called "Queue du Charrue", meaning "Line of Cars", that poured somewhat flat and had an appetizing ruby color. The label left little indication as to what lay inside, other than the vague categorization of "Bruin". (Brown). The color screamed Flemish Red Beer and upon smelling it my hunch was confirmed. It had plum wine notes overwhelming a delicate toffee base, and the acidity was obviously forthcoming on the palate.

Not nearly as sour as I had anticipated, this brown brewed by Verhaeghe in Vichte, West Flanders, stands as a wonderfully mellow example of this regional beer style that I had thought was slowly heading toward extinction. Not so, in fact, it appears to be quite popular. A similar beer brewed by the same brewery and sold on tap at this bar, "Duchesse de Burgogne" (Duchesse of Burgundy), was on every tray that passed by us.

After filling up on Queue, I selected another unknown label called Caves, which as it turns out, is also brewed by the same brewery as the two mentioned above. This one poured a copper color and left a bit more head. Again, the aroma belied its shady past, resting in oak tuns in some dark cellar acquiring a rustic, winey tang that seems almost impossible to find anywhere else in the world. The "off" swill drawn from filthy beer lines in seedy, poorly managed pubs does not count.

Since I was already getting a bit toasty by the time I tried Caves, I'll punt to Michael Jackson to explain its nuances as "...a Gueuze-like brew but with a fuller color and a nuttier, creamier palate." This seems to ring a bell.

For anyone wishing to delve deeper into this style, I've included a list of beers that fall within the sour red/brown beer category which are loosely defined as beers that claim all or part of their make-up to derive from stock aged in wooden barrels, tuns, or metal tanks (open or closed). An asterix indicates a beer in the style that acquires it sourness in other ways, either by blending with a lambic base or by other means uspecified.

Rodenbach - Klassiek, Grand Cru
Liefmans - Goudenband, Odnar, Oud Bruin (plus a Kriek and a Framboise made from them)
Verhaege - Duchesse de Burgongne, Queue du Charrue, Caves, Vichtenaar, Pandoer, Gapers Bier Ansold.
Van Steenberge - Bios
Van Honsebrouck - Bacchus
Strubbe - Ichtegem's Oud Bruin, Hoeve Bier
Facon - Ouden Bruin
Alken Maes - Zulte*
Bockor - Bellegems Bruin
Bavik - Petrus Oud Bruin
Cnudde - Cnudde Bruin
Timmermans - Bourgogne des Flandres*

An addtional note of interest is that the Dolle Brewers (Oerbier, Boskeun, Stille Nacht) used to use a Rodenbach yeast which gave their beers a similar character, but after the purchase to Palm, the supply was cut off and Dolle had to reinvent its range.

2004-09-09T09:07:00.000-07:00

The first blog of the drinking season will feature a good old fashioned beer review. What better beer to review than the one that I happen to be looking at right now, but have not yet tasted. It is a St. Bernardus Pater 6, one of the beers with a goofy bald monk featured on the label holding a Burgundian goblet of frothy beer. The froth is no exaggeration as the beer I have just poured has a head with the density of mousse, leaving ridges, gullies and banks of foam here and there as it slowly subsides. I am afraid to touch the glass for fear of disturbing the equilibrium it has reached. But I must, for I am thirsty.

The beer attacks my nostrils with one of the richest and cleanest toffee and caramel aromas I have experienced. If it tastes anything like it smells, it will be among my countless favorites.

...mmmmmmm and it does. Wow, what a kicker for 6.7% alcohol. I've had this in my cellar all summer, so that may have helped it, but it certainly has everything a great Belgian ale should have. This one starts off dry, then kicks in with some burnt caramel accented nicely by plenty of hops. The finish lingers with a spicy hoppiness that doesn't leave you looking bitter.

Overall the beer is on the dry side, and very drinkable. No obvious blemishes marr its balanced palate, and the head remains virtually intact halfway through. Now here's a little trick that I learned in school; add a bit of sediment, swirl it around, and re-sample. Did it change the flavor? Yes, as is often the case, the flavor loses a few dimensions and props itself up on its hoppiness. A delicate maltiness can often easily be overwhelmed by even minor doses of silty yeast. Highly flocculent yeast does not tend to have as much an effect. Try it next time.

2004-05-31T10:47:00.000-07:00

Having ignored the beer blog for the better part of 2 months now, I'll refresh it with with a generous hose-down of Belgian white beers, known the world over now as biere blanche or witbier, depending on the side of the language divide the beer has its origin in.

This summary comes weeks after the actual tasting, out of the poorly scribbled notebeek I kept during the event conducted in honor of Steves departure one day hence. That afternoon we made an excursion to Beer Mania and bought 10 white beers coming to a total bill of 13 Euro including deposit! The distinguished list, in no particular order, included Blanche de Hainaut, Haacht, Dentergems, Caracole Troublette, Floris Gaarden, Blanche de Honnelle, Grisette, Blanche de Namur, and Steendonck. Notice anything missing? Of course you do, Hoegaarden, the standard by which all of these will be measured, for better or for worse. How one of the most popular and ubiquitous of Belgian swill could be considered a "standard" is a topic for yet another blog, so before you decry, discredit, and disengage, assume that there is a perfectly acceptable reason for not including it in the set.

The two best of the lot, in our heavily biased opinions, were Caracole Troublette and Floris Gaarden which both had lots of orange and spice with an acidity that might be a bit much for the timid. These matched very closely our notion of an "ideal" white beer that we both had worked hard to produce in the (now defunct) homebrewery at 2710 NE 94th street. These too were the most expensive and rarer of the group, so good luck finding them outside of the Low Countries. In our opinion, a bit more coriander would be nice, though we don't know the age of these samples.

Blanche de Niege, Grisette, Steendonck and Blanche de Namur might easily be confused with the "standard", but the discerning, un-inebriated palatte might notice some key individualities that make each interesting and worth trying in their own right. All of these were soft on the toungue, without any noticeable acidity nor any obvious flaws.

Between the two, in a class by itself perhaps, is Dentergems that had lots of clove and came in a bit on the sweet side in balance. A touch of acidity would round this out wonderfully and might develop witha little time in the bottle.

The next group was made up of those troubled ale souls that had lots of promise but, due to one brewing disability or another, fail to reach their full potential. These were Blanche to Hainaut, which was marred by a metallic flavor, and Haacht, which reeked of DMS right of the bottle. This diminished with time in the glass, however.

Only one sample truly made the "untouchables list", Blanche de Honnelles, which is a surprise considering the quality of the other beers from Abbaye des Rocs. This one was well-oxidized. I'll have to give it a second chance someday.

One blanche that we didnt' sample here but has often bathed my oral and nasal sensory complex is Blanche de Brugs. It isn't outstanding out of the bottle, but like most good white beers, with a little time in the keg it acquires a satisfying tang that makes drinking liters of it more or less compulsory. In addition, the blond proprietor of the bar up the street that serves it is quite gorgeous, which may have biased my drinking experience to a significant degree.

"Keep your lips on your pint and you will never have room for your foot." - Me

2004-03-27T03:06:00.000-08:00

OK, I'm going to have be honest here. A tremendous amount of research went into this post which, though absolutely necessary, made for some pretty rough mornings. With Steve's visit coming to an end, we may have tried to get too much in before he left. Regardless, I'm proud to present the product of these many labored hours of tedious research, and I hope you appreciate my solemn, devoted contribution to beer drinking posterity.

So little is understood about the nature of beer and the manner in which it should be consumed that it astonishes me. In many ways, beer has remained a product produced quickly and drunk fresh, with a limited shelf-life and a mass consumer appeal. This is true of pale ales, porters, stouts, lagers and any combination of grains and hops weighing in between 3 and 7% alcohol abv. Drinkers of beer shy away from over-analysis, understanding too much about it's delicate nature, or guarding it in cellars, so as to keep it as a working-class beverage: a simple, enjoyable intoxicant that doesn't have to be doted over to please the palate. There are beers for this type of drinking in every country; we usually call these swill, and in most nations these beers make up a large majority of the offerings on any shelf, in any bar, or in any refigerator. Then there are the majority of beers in Belgium.

When I first arrived here I was blown away by the selection and flavor of these beers and yet at the same time I wondered just how good even the most common beers could be. Are the majority of Belgian ales drunk long before their full character is revealed? Asking around, I was told repeatedly that even the best Belgian beers should be drunk fresh as the breweries let them mature and release them in the prime of their flavor development. Even Michael Jackson, the notorious Beer Hunter, in his book "The Great Beers of Belgium" refers only a hanful of times to "Devotees (who) like to lay down the stongest [beer] for a month or two..." though he never describes just how these beers can change in only a couple of months. In my opinion, the change is remarkable enough to motivate me to try to create a rotation in my cellar so that I am regularly drinking even the most common beers at their optimum flavor potential. Many of my experiences with ageing beers will appear below in this post, as I will be updating it whenever I have another important tasting experience with a well-matured Belgian Ale.

I would like to start off first with a beer that I have already drunk my weight in since I've been here, and feel that it is sill one of the greatest beers on the planet, regardless of its purported fall from grace and it's presence in every grocery store in Belgium. This beer is Hoegaarden Grand Cru. The grand cru tends to have a rough alcoholic sheath around it when young, though not always, yet after three months, the samples I have were outstanding. When tasted simultaneously with one right off the shelf, there was literally no comparison, like apples and oranges. The fruit and malt came all the way through in the aged sample while the young sample tasted much like a strong version of the blanche.

Bon Secours Brune - Brasserie Caulier. This beer sat for 5 months before the side-by-side and really did impress with its maturity. The young version has a lot of DMS while the aged sample truly tasted of chocolate and toffee, as a good brune should here. It is a bottle-conditioned beer that I have had a few carbonation problems with.

Rochefort 10 and 8 - The real winner here was the 10 degree. One of the lesser known and more expensive of the trappist breweries that makes some of Gods greatest nectar, Rochefort is available at most grocery stores here for around a buck a bottle. At 11.3%, the 10 is a huge beer that needs plenty of time in the bottle to mature before it can truly shine. Though good young, it can have a rather astringent solvent character that goes away completely after about 3 months. If you really want to experience one of the greatest beer flavors imaginable, buy a few of these and let them stew for a bit. You will not be disappointed. The most recent sample I had was so remarkably smooth that I could have easily mistaken it for the 8, while the warming sensation at the finish reminded me not to take this beer lightly. The 8 also gets better but the differences are not as exceptional. Still worth holding onto to get a full crack at all that wonderful molasses in the finish.

Hoegaarden Verboden Vrucht. - Americans will never be able to sample this beer in country due to its scandalous label depicting a naked woman getting trashed and seducing a helpless young man. If it weren't for the fact that this label were a humorous take on a masterpiece by Peter Paul Rubens depicting, what else, Adam and Eve, I could marginally understand the FDA. As it is, this organization is depriving America's beer drinkers of one of the more unique beers of the world. This beer gets MUCH better after only a few months. The intense fruit and yeastiness are not evident in the young sample, but steal the show later on. It tastes to me a lot like an Aventinus Weizenbock. If you haven't had this one, you might give it a try as well.

Westvletern 12 and 8 - Westy 12 was pretty darn good young, but I must say it left me a little disappointed compared to many more readily available and cheaper beers of similar character. But I have recently been able to enjoy a few of them that I bought in October and have found them much more to my liking. This is the beer that I had imagined while driving through the pastoral Flemish countryside looking for the tiny abbey that brews it. The 8 has also improved quite a bit and I would give this one at least a month after purchasing to shape up or you might be sadly disappointed, as I was.

Gouden Carolus - This a beer that has always intruiged me, and after visiting the brewery in Mechelen I know why. It is a very well crafted product from a dedicated brewery. The young version of this is very, very good, and not one that I would necessarily recommend laying down over drinking fresh. It did, however, turn into a complete antithesis of itself after 6 months. Gone were the delicate ester and malt overtones, and in its place were powerful dark chocolate, raison, and coffee flavors. This was a beer that tasted much bigger than it was. I can't think of another beer that better embodies the best of the Belgian ale at such a gravity (8%).

2004-03-21T05:12:00.000-08:00

This is one post that I've been meaning to get to for quite some time, but have been sidetracked by other more important things, like work. During the first week of Steve's visit we made our way down near the French border to visit the Vapeur brewery in the unremarkable little Wallonian town of Pipaix (pron. Peepay). Of all the breweries in Belgium, what makes this one so special is it's mode of energy; a steam engine. Though many breweries still use steam has a heat source for the mash tun and the kettle, this brewery powers the entire operation from the grist mill and the pumps to the impressive stirring arm of the mash tun, which is where the conversion of starchy barley into sweet dextrinous wort occurs. This is allegedly the only remaing brewery in the world that is 100% steam powered, and much of it's equipment dates to the 1850's!! We saw only the mash process while we were there, however, this is the business end of brewing and provides the biggest bang for the buck with regard to viewing the engine in action

After standing around listening to one of the family-brewer members rattle on in French about brewing, and admiring the little brewer smurf who was looking after things, the brewer fired up the boiler and the crowd watched in suspense as the should-be museum piece came to life. The groaning boiler began to move a steam-spewing piston, which in turn cranked a shaft attached to a wheel the size of a bicycle tire. This was the master wheel that spun a belt looped around a slightly smaller wheel, which in turn, drove an axle supported from the ceiling. From this axle over our heads hung a number of of other belts and a hand-clutches to activate the various components of the system. When the mash stirrer got going full speed the whole room was transormed into to some sort of early industrial sweatshop with little consideration for human safety. It was spectacular to watch the master brewer-smurf harness the power of this engine and even more spectacular to retire to the garage-come-tasting room where we could sample this fully artisinal product for Euro 1.50 a glass and watch the other family members prepare the country meal for lunch. Steve and I, however, had other items on our agenda.

Having found ourselves way off the beaten tourist track, we were in no hurry to revisit it. So, we walked the 4 km back to the train station at Leuze (no bus service on Saturday) and jumped the next train to Tournai (Doornik in Flemish). I had been fascinated by this town ever since arriving here due to its unique cathedral and interesting history. Tournai was one of the earliest Roman settlements in Belgium, along with Tongeren in the NE, and became the seat of power for the Merovignian Franks around the end of the first millenium. In the 12th century work began on a ginormous cathedral that has some fascinating points of interest. What first strikes the viewer are the 5 towers, four of which anchor the corners of the transcept, with the remainder looming in the middle. The simple and elegant Romanesque architecture with its round arches, pillars, and beefy square proportions is very pleasing and reassuring to look at, yet it contrasts noticeably with a massive nave that features flourishing high gothic elements. Obviously built over the course of hundreds of years and spanning the shift to the gothic style, the hodgepodge serves as an interesting reminder of how extended such projects were, and of how our our modern self-knowledge and narrower priorities have rendered construction on a relative scale obsolete in our world.

Another fascinating element of Tournai is it's fairly well-preserved old town with medieval stone houses, most of which are currently occupied and could use a bit of TLC, and the narrow, inspiring alleys linking its ancient past with today. The presence of Louis the 14th is felt strongly in this town as a majority of the older building were built during his reign at the end of the 17th century and demonstrate his preferred architectural features. These contrasted sharply with the gothic and baroque gables that straddle this time period and reminds the visitor of the constant flux of central and regional power that have left this area with such a profound identity crisis. Though not a must see for first time tourists, Tournai is the type of town that will impress residents who are shy of the tourist hordes that have taken over Bruges and even Brussels for that matter.

Unfortunately, Tournai is a beer wasteland in an oasis of wonderful breweries. It is quite exasperating really that a town with such history, population, and proximity to so many great breweries would not support them. Steve and I wandered for over an hour looking for a comfortable pub with even a decent beer list and finally settled on a spot in the Grand Place to imbibe a few ridiculously cheap, strong, mediocre Belgian mega-brews such as Leffe and Chimay (yes, I did just say that, please don't shoot the messenger). Once the only ray of hope had opened up, which was a promising looking bar in a building fronted by a wonderful 13th century facade of rough-hewn stone, we headed its direction to cap off the day. Unfortunately, the 15th century arched cellar was so hideously decorated and floodlit that we felt as though we were in a cheap diner rather than a classic old-world establishment. And it was here that another annoying Wallonian habit became obvious; when bringing beers to your table, Wallonian wait staff will hastily pour a few ounces of the beer into your glass, generating a glassfull of foam, and then set the bottle down and walk away, leaving you with no opportunity to enjoy a perfectly poured beer, or to enjoy a sediment-free beverage on the occasion that the beer was bottle-conditioned. In contrast, the staff in renowned Brussels cafes will happily give you a perfect pour every time and leave the bottle for you to study. In any case, I fully enjoyed a Blonde of the Abbaye de L'Esperance label, brewed by Brasserie Lefebvre. It was full of yummy malt and vanilla with a lively body. If I ever go back to Tournai it won't be for the beer. For some photos of the Vapeur brewery and Tournai, see the slide show I published [ here ] and scroll down toward the end.

2004-03-20T01:47:00.000-08:00

"When will they open a Starbucks in Brussels?!"

I hear this gut-wrenching cry of desperation all too often around here in B-town, often following or preceding the cry "The Belgians just don't understand good coffee." Though I don't fully agree with the latter or sympathize with the former, I do think the coffee culture in Belgium is interesting enough blog about. What is most remarkable is that a country with so many patrons of the gastronimic arts could virtually ignore a beverage that both the Dutch and French so thoroughly enjoy. Add to this the diverse influences from the Spanish, the Austrians, and the French, each of which held a noble court here for many decades, and it becomes even more baffling.

Coffee in Belgium generally exists in two forms, caffeinated and decaffeinated. On many occasions, usually in nice restaurants, you can get a "cappucino" or an "espresso", but these creations would cause riots in Rome and brief disorientation, followed by acute localised slander in coffee-chic areas of the U.S. Essentially, the Barista is a title bestowed on only a rare few members of Belgian cafe society. 90% of coffee made in cafes of Brussels comes from a machine. "Monsieur, un cafe au lait sil-vous-plais, et un cappucino pour la madame. " The server then walks over to a large shiny apparatus, places an 8-10 oz cup beneath the spout, presses a button, et voila! A perfect, rich, heady cup of coffee is produced. For the cappucino, a slightly larger cup is placed under the same spout, a different button is pressed which yields a slightly stronger coffee brew, and then spews a thick, dry topping of foam perfectly every time. I have never been disappointed by a cup of coffe, though I've only rarely been excited by one, and this usually follows a 60 dollar meal. Pouring chocolate syrup into coffee would be sinful. If you want a mocha, eat the wonderful Belgian chocolate served with every cup. Have a hankering for Caramel? No Luck. In Essence, Belgium, like other European countries, is not the place for people who drink lots of coffee, but who do not actually like the taste of it. A plain coffee in the U.S. that comes in a towering pint and tastes faintly of the beans that made it is unheard of here, not to mention the paper cup. Condense all that goodness down into a ceramic cup half its size, add heavy cream, an assortment of chocoloates and, on occaision, an array of speculose (butter wafers) and you have a perfectly predictable and economical coffee experience. But if you want a comfortable mocha to take with you on the road, this creation is still (fortunately) at odds with Belgian cultural values. Even if the nicer coffee shops here offered take-out coffee, I don't see why anybody would buy it. Cafes here exist as a place for people to go and sit with a friend and chat, not to line up for tall Late. And on a more practical note, the cars here don't have cupholders, and if you spill your coffee on your lap in Brussels, you have nobody to blame for it but yourself.

2004-03-13T04:48:00.000-08:00

If there were ever a defining moment for a homebrewer or beer lover, a moment analagous to an art historian standing beneath the dome of the Sistine chapel for the first time, it would have to be a visit to a working lambic brewery in Brussels. Now imagine for a moment that you could somehow stand beneath that same frescoed dome in Rome while the master himself were painting it. Unfortunately, that is where this image will always be, in your imagination, which is quite unlike the reality of watching the master brewers at Cantillion finesse the 100 year-old brewing equipment into producing one of the planet's most elegant and unique beverages. There were no artists renditions between myself and the cobwebbed gallery of recycled port casks frothing out the bung with spontaneously fermenting lambic. There were no museum placards explaining the aroma of vinous, wild fermentation that filled the air, nor were there ropes or railings to keep me from tiptoeing over rivulets of effluent from high krausen, or immersing my head in billows of steam tainted by the cheesy aroma of aged hops. The coopers cleaning and repairing casks for the next batch were not made of wax, but flesh and blood; it was the real deal. And once Steve and I had worked up quite a thirst, we sat in the makeshift cafe up front and drank the indescribable product of this alchemism for 1.50 a glass.

The Cantillon brewery opens its doors to guests on brew-day only once a year (the first weekend in March), and Steve was lucky enough to be here at just the right time to experience it. If we had the patience we could have sat there drinking all day and watched every step of the 10-hour process, but we saw what we wanted to see, and drank what we came to drink. So, we bought a few of the beers from the gift shop that we didn't try and brought them home for some more enrichment of our beer-tasting experiences.

Brucsella Grand Cru This is the raw 3 year-old lambic that goes into the various geuze blends at Cantillon. As such it is a bit more expensive than geuze and is quite still. It is a challenging beer to drink, being quite tart and unforgiving, but I must say that I have acquired a tasted for the sour stuff. This beer is simply amazing.

Vigneronne An interesting lambic fermented on white muscat grapes from Italy. It smells odd, but tastes wonderful. It retained much of the grape's character while splashing around the characteristic tartness and cheesiness of the gueuze. It's like having cheese and wine in a glass.

St. Lamvinus A similar concoction using French cabernet and merlot grapes from Bordeaux. I didn't much care for this one as it didn't have the complexity of the other fruit lambics and didn't seem to retain any of the grapes' characteristics. Not super tart either.

2004-03-02T10:54:00.000-08:00

Since time and ethanol together are beginning to render faded memories of the beers I've tried since Steve has arrived, I'm just going to blog as many of them as I can in one sitting. If you don't want to read the gory details of these, just move on to the next more interesting blog.

Het Kapital pater (7.5%) - The name implies it would be fit for the monks that, unfortunately, do not brew this beer. It is brewed by Watou and what a fine bunch of brewers they are I must say. This one was rich and malty with a balance toward the sweet side, though I picked up a bit of hop flavor in the finish.

Bon Secours Amber (8%) - Brewed by Caulier, this sample had a pretty powerful DMS flavor that left us glad that we were only drinking half a beer each. I've had it tasting better, but it's a crapshoot with this brewery.

Rochefortoise Amber (8%) - Though I really like the brune from this brewery, the amber landed just short of sucking. It was a technically sound beer that just didn't have much complexity. Though the beer is worthless, the labels are a trip. A half naked, busty, black babe in revealing armor holding a mash paddle and charging away from a castle while being pursued hotley by a group of goofy Walloons with red noses. It gave us a couple of good belly laughs at the very least.

Ellezelloise Amber (8.5% - catching an amber theme here?) - This one stole the show with some profound orangey notes created either by diacetyl or orange peel, who knows. It was complex, smooth, and waaaay to easy to drink too much of.

Dupont Vielle Provision (9.5%) - This one is an insanely smooth strong blonde ale that left both Steve and I speechless. It had some really subtle vanilla and spice notes, but mostly it just left us guessing at it's subtle but impressive complexity. We had this in a large corked bottle that pretty much corked us by the time we were done.

Saison 1900 (5.1%) - There is something about Saisons that you just can't pin down, and this one was no exception. Wonderfully grainy malt, a spicy hop flavor and lingering finish of.....of....of something that kept the glass pinned to my lips. I fully dug this beer made by the brasserie Lefebvre which makes the more well-known Floreffe brands.

Saison Pipaix - A beer gone bad.

Duchess de Burgogne vintage 1998 - A scam. This one should never have been aged as it is not a bottle conditioned beer. This was more theft than vintage beer, though it wasn't too bad overall.

Vichtenaar Oud Bruin (5.5%) - A rare find from the Brugge Biertje cafe, this one smacked of Rodenbach Grand Cru but with maybe a touch less sourness and complexity. A real nice beer though and one which I wish I could find here in Brussels.

Ichtegem Oud Bruin (5%) Yet another in the string of oud bruins (old browns) that I chose as a theme at the Brugge Biertje cafe in Bruge, which, as our prophetic beer guide put it, is "one of only a handful of cafes in the world that you must visit before you die." This brown gave up only the promise of coming sourness, while yielding some good toffee and nuts and plenty of creamed corn from the high DMS levels in the beer. In practically any other beer style I would call it an unfortunate off-flavor, but in this style, it reminds you of the house character that a good old brown must develop from the proprietary microfauna in the brewer's casks. With the caramelly flavors of this beer, the DMS thus becomes essential for making it consistently interesting.

2004-02-29T02:06:00.000-08:00

It was on Saturday, a cold, wet, throughly miserable day, that we headed up with another teacher to the Kulminator pub in Antwerp. This is a world-class pub that needs no plugging whatsoever. If you love good beer a lot, you simply have to come here and drink for a few days. It's OK; remember that wine afficionados are held in high esteem for spending many days in the trenches of Tuscany, Bordeaux, and Napa sampling wine after wine, looking for that super bargain that they pretend will somehow make it 10-20 years in their cellars. It's no different for a beer aficionado sitting in a pub like the Kulminator. Well, I should rephrase that because there is no pub like the Kulminator that I know of anywhere else on the planet. It is a pub that sells multiple vintages of many different Belgian ales stretching all the way back to the late 70's. Vintage ales you say? It is not a hoax; beers CAN age extremely well and change perceptibly over time, acquiring flavors that nudge them over the line and into the camps of sherries and ports. Some get sweeter, some get drier, some turn sour, and others just turn off. The ability to taste a beer and know that it will improve over a decade or two is part extreme powers of evaluation, and part luck. Some of the beers I orderd left me little doubt that they would be better aged than they are fresh, but were not. Others simply made me speechless. To qualify as a vintage candidate, the beer must be reasonably high in alcohol; 8% ABV seems to be a benchmark. It must also be brewed with extreme care, be handled well ALL of its life, and must have been bottle conditioned. Even with all of these factors covered, a bottle conditioned beer is still a living ecosystem and is subject to the infinitely complex factors of such systems. The beer may not have carbonated properly, or the cap may not have been sealed well. A flat beer is worthless in most circumstances and can be likened to a "corked" wine; it must be poured out. Then the possiblity exists that an unwanted infection (yes, there are desireable infections in many Belgian ales) might have occured, leading to intolerable off-flavors that usually lead the beer directly to the drain. If an exceptional brewer has somehow managed to avoid these many pitfalls and produce a beer of sufficient constitution to last a generation or two, chances are high that you'll find it here at the Kulminator.

When we opened the menu we were initially struck by the 17 listings for Chimay Grand Reserve stretching all the way back to 1977, a year after the bar opened. The next page brought an even greater surprise with many years of Liefmans Goudenband and Kriek, though these were well out my price range. I stuck with the smaller bottles and ended up first with a Stille Nacht from 1994. Wow, what an outstanding beer this was, hints of plum wine and a light acidity on an immense background of sweet malt. I had never tasted anything quite like it and It cost me all of 6 Euros. Kumar ordered a Petrus Triple from 1996 that had acquired a nice overtone of wine without masking the wonderful complexity of the original beer. Steve ordered a 1998 gueuze from Boon, the "Marriage Parfait", that had dried out noticeably but retained a strong woodiness to it.

Our next conquest would be a 1997 Westmalle triple that arrived in its customary cradle, and sporting lime deposits and mold spots. This one didn't impress quite as much as the first with it's age, but it was still a damn fine beer. This would be a beer that I would drink fairly fresh after laying down for no more than a month. Our last couple of beers were regrettable, and served as lessons to us that all beers are not candidates for ageing, or should at least be drunk at their peak of maturity. I bought a 1983 imperial stout from Courage that had seen better days, and Steve's EKU Kulminator 28 was probably best drunk fresh since it doesn't have yeast in the bottle.

And so ended our foray to Antwerp and it's timeless bar that I will be sure to make an effort to reach again soon.

2004-02-10T08:53:00.000-08:00

I am quite surprised by the Mort Subite Kriek that i just picked up from the local grocer on my way home from work. It is not the sauced-up candy drink that I thought it to be. Though it isn't the finest Kriek ever made and is made with cherry pulp rather than whole fruits (but what isn't anymore?), it's got enough acidity to make it consistently interesting, and to keep me poking my tongue around the inside of my lips looking for pockets of cherrified acid. It's good to know that a readily available, commercial Kriek is not the nasty swill that I thought it would be.

2004-02-07T05:53:00.000-08:00

And then there were 8

"At the turn of the century there were over 100 gueuze blenders", explained the owner of Beer Mania in Brussels. "Now there are only 8. It doesn't make sense that a Champagne from Bourdeaux that uses the worst white wine on the planet can sell for $20, while a 4 year old gueuze must sell for under $5.00. This is the reason there are so few left." Nasser is a man passionate about Belgian ale, and equally passionate about the few remaining gueuzes he can still purchase. As I browsed his selection, he explained that yet another lambic brewer and gueuze blender has ceased production, Oud Beersel. I have a few of these babies in the cellar and willl now hold on to them indefinately. Not that anybody I know in Belgium will care about them but me. Overall I am appalled at the complacency and ignorance toward this amazing drink on the part of the average Belgian. A majority of people that I meet think Bell-Vue is a classic gueuze, and despite it's composition of watered-down cane sugar and laboratory acid mixed with a bit of insipid pilsener, this beer is even a bit too much for the majority of palettes. Gueuze, like an aged cheese or any other artisan foodstuff that requires a lengthy, complex interaction with nature to create, is guaranteed to offend you the first time you drink it. It will be like nothing you've ever put in your mouth. But once the fear factor fades and your tastebuds acclimate, it will grow on you. One of the most exceedingly complex and powerful flavors ever put in a bottle, gueuze is a holdover from another time, an anomaly in a McWorld serving up cliche flavors like so many 15 cent cheesburgers. And as the players fall to the conglomerates, and the syrupy chick "McLambics" spewed out of the bungs of every once-great gueuze blender in Belgium gain due market share, the flavor of an authentic gueuze that washes over the tongue like a dry, cheesy, grapefruit cocktail will be nothing but a fond memory.

Here is a list of the remaining Lambic Makers

Lindemans
Boon
Mort Subite
Girardin
Drie Fonainen
Cantillon
De Troch / Chapeau
Timmermans

...and gueuze blenders only

Cam
Moriau

In related news...I'm drinking an interesting kriek that does not appear to be made from a lambic base, but it does have quite a bit of oak in it. The cherry flavor is strong, if a bit artificial (it is made with extract). Doesn't leave much on the tongue after swallowing to remind you that you actually just tasted something except for a bit of cherry gum flavor. Flavor is neutral overall.

I had a beer at Beer Mania while I was stocking up on gueuze that was a brand new experience. It was the oudbietje (old bitch) from Hanssens. This is a gueuze-lambic flavored with strawberry, a mixture that merely compliments rather than dominates the beers profile. It was intensely sour and acid, with an indescribable fruitiness on back of the tongue. I'll have to try many more of these before I'll be able to verbalize the sensation. Better yet, try it yourself, if you can find it.

2004-01-31T11:58:00.000-08:00

Despite all word to the contrary, somewhere in a remote and persistent corner of my brain I believed that just outside of Brussels one could still spend an afternoon in a rustic cafe sipping unfiltered, uncarbonated, gut-puckering lambic from a stoneware crock. I imagined an establishment with tile floors, ceramic tap towers and gunmetal fittings, and adorned with plenty of old brewerania posters and dusty bottles to remind patrons of an era fast coming to a close. I couldn't quite identify the flavor of this imaginary lambic, but I knew that it would be challenging even to a seasoned sour beer drinker. Months after arriving in Brussels even, I still found the idea only marginally plausible as I read through the beer section of every tour book I could get my hands on. These books recommended the usual run-of-the-mill cafes that are full of, what else, but other tourists seeking an authentic Belgian beer drinking experience and finding at least a reasonable fascimile. It's not that these places lack atmosphere, nor in the least an impressive beer menu and unique methods of presentation. No, these places have all the tools to satisfy even the avid beer adventurer. But in a land with so much tradition, so much resilience to the forces of modernization and commercialism, there had to exist still some vestigial remnants of an ale culture where nature was supreme, where the will of the microbes ruled over any necessity or expectation of consistency. Over a hundred years ago a beer with a wild tartness was highly coveted as a refreshing element in an otherwise murky drink. All through the British Isles and the beer belts of Northern Europe an ale with a balanced acidity washed through the gullets of just about every pub patron. Though refinement and predictability are not inherently bad things, one can't help but grieve for the loss of any cultural artifact that reminds one of another way to appreciate life.

So, it goes without saying that I was relieved to read about the timeless cafes of the Payottenland and the flat ancient lambic poured within. Though few are left, there are more than enough for a day of pH altering lambic quaffing. None of these places are easy to find even with specific directions, and amazingly, neither the region as a whole or the gems inside are referred to in any of the guides to Brussels. I suppose it is only for the die-hard beer tourist that books such as "The Guide to Cafes and Breweries of the Benelux" are written. And I suppose it is more than just a small coincidence that in a region within sight of a Brussels apartment block, where cafes pour the last of the worlds rarest and most romantic beers, one could find themselves sipping such a beverage in the company only of locals whose ancestors have been quietly making and appreciating it for many many centuries. Call it weird, call it unrefined, insipid, vile anything you want, I call it special, and something worth drinking before it passes from this earth.

I found myself there indeed thanks to the effortless navigation of a Belgian friend and his street-savvy wife. The first stop was in Beersel, the southernmost outpost of fermentaiety spontenaiety. Inside the Drie Fontainen, named for the excellent lambic and gueuze they produce, we were treated to our choice of faro, lambic, or kriek in liter-sized crocks with the establishment's moniker hand inscribed in the clay. We ordered a liter of lambic and a liter of faro (a sweetened version for those with less of a sour tooth), and it was wonderful stuff. Both Thierry and I completely enjoyed it while Angelia withstood the test, and Christine was polite enough to finish her glass. Christine mentioned that the Faro smelled like a urinal and I nodded approvingly, eliciting exactly the opposite reaction that one would expect from such a critique. Once our meal of some kind of wild poultry in a kriek sauce had been devoured, and the crocks poured dry (click here for pic), I asked the patron if I could purchase one of them and he told me that it would be impossible as these were all they had left. He said I could buy them from a small shop deep in the Ardennes, but that would be a bit of a detour for us.

The next cafe on the tour was just too much to digest. Fronting a farmhouse and hidden behind a century of encroaching urbanization, the "In de Oud Smis Van Mekingin" was something pulled from the very recesses of my imagination that had kept this dream alive for so many years. With the matron pouring the Moriau gueuze, her ancient parents presiding over affairs from a corner of the bar, and the family cat climbing on our lap, this was surely the last of a dieing breed. The hush within was so profound, that it was as though we had entered the front-room of somebody's house and asked for a beer. In effect, this is what we did, as this pub probably was at one time these peoples' living room. I had never heard of the Moriau gueuze before and I really enjoyed its citrusy effervescent character. Much like the gueze from de Troch. As we sat and discussed politics, the place began to fill with the local variety, and we eventually found ourselves the center of attention, though it was most likely because we were the only ones talking, and we weren't being very discreet about it. Oh well.

To finish the evening, we navigated the void north of Vlezenbeek (where Lindemans is fermented) to the small town of Schepdaal and the the classic old DeNeve Lambic brewery that is now defunct thanks to a buy-out by Interbrew. Lets all cheer at once...Thanks Interbrew! The destination here was De Rare Vos, or "The Wiley Fox", which is the only place in the world, so I hear, that sells draft Girardin Kriek. This is really, truly, an outstanding experience. More tart and less sweet than a Lindemans, but not has intensely dry as the bottled versions of many Krieks. This place only sells it because they are longtime friends of the Girardin blenders. I'm glad it isn't too far away. They also sold their own young lambic that tasted much like old brown ale. Once we were done we drove the 10 miles back home and reflected upon the day's unique pub experiences. If I had a car, I might be back there right now.

2004-01-28T07:17:00.000-08:00

Here I sit on a cold, dreary, January day in Brussels, the forecasts predicting extreme snow on little more than blind faith, the last of the brown fall leaves clinging to the trees in the park, the last of the autumn cheer clinging to the faces of the people on the street, and all this dreariness being washed away with a charming bottle of Mc Chouffe, the Brune d'Ardenne. Not just any old bottle mind you, but one large enough even to cheer up an Islamic inmate at Guantanamo Bay. I found a stash of these 750ml babies waiting for me at my neighborhood grocer like a ray of sunlight on a typical Belgian Winter's day, and for only 2.39 a pop. This one has a perfumy, almost meaty aroma and an estery, alcoholic palatte with plenty of chocolaty, raisiny flavors to have you putting away the bottle faster than you should. At 8.5% alcohol, that's not always a good thing. Angelia will be home soon though, so I know I've got someone to help me finish it.

A big surprise from last weekend was a bottle of Rochefortoise, not to be confused with the Trappiste Rochefort label that is fast becoming all too famous for its own good. This one was the brune, a Winter favorite, and a stout one at 10% ABV. I couldn't get over the intense toffee aroma and insanely malty palatte of this beer. A fine Wallonian beer that will have me trying its Triple and Amber come Spring.

Along with this beer also enjoyed the La Divine immensely. I had never seen this beer before, but is also a big burley beer from Wallonia. It was more of a Barleywine style, but at "only" 9.5% ABV. I nursed this one and found it to be a refreshing change from the all the browns I have been trying.

This weekend will bring a trip to the Payottenland, a beer drinkers paradise in the most unlikely of places. A full report to be included after I recover.

2003-12-18T03:29:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas time in Belgium, and apart from the lights hanging over the streets, the odd jingle in a grocery store, and the tower in the Grand Place lit up like a red and blue icecicle, there isn't much about to warn you of the impending holiday. Though I do miss the hourly news reports on NPR telling me that I'm not spending enough to save the economy from collapse this Christmas, I do not miss Northwest winter ales. I have put most of those over-hopped crystal malt nightmares out of my mind as the Belgian holiday ales have finally begun hitting the shelves in force. These folks take holiday winter ales quite seriously, and after spending only one Autumn here, I know why. It is cold and dark and wet, and there isn't anything better to get you into the Christmas mood than a jolly glass of 9-10% alcohol beer with satirical, self-effacing, or downright embarassing labels pasted on them. They inevitably get funnier with every sip.

The most outstanding of the winter ales I've had so far is the Biere de Noel by Brasserie Caulier. It is a triple-style ale of 10% with an amazing bouquet of subtle spices that give an overall impression of egg nog. I felt myself growing jollier by the minute with that beer in my hand. I didn't want it to end and I will surely be buying some more for the holiday break.

Another winner is the Bush Noel. Though I'm sure this has a different connotation depending on whether you are in Iraq or the U.S., here everybody associates the word "Bush" first to the strongest beers made in these parts, then to our weak president. Bush Noel, in keeping with the tradition, is a toasty 12% alcohol bevvy, but you wouldn't know it for drinking it. It is so frighteningly smooth that I could drink it like swill and really end up hurting myself. This one really could kill you. It's a deep copper color and wonderfully malty and semi-dry, with a touch of mild fruit to lighten the effect.

St. Feuillen Christmas ale was a surprise considering the standard industrially-produced double and blonde didn't really do much for me. This one, however, is bottle-conditioned and strong at 9%. A soft base of rich ripe fruit hold up a bowlful of chocolate and malt that just keep tantalizing down to the final drop. I enjoyed this one with a Cuban cigar and made it last. I could have used two of these beers to keep pace with that great, languid smoke.

Another surprise has been the Florival Hiver (winter). This one is prduced for the grocery store chain in the area called Del Haize, and even has their logo on it. It is also cheap at around 3.25 for 4-12 oz bottles. At 8.5% it is no slouch, and it is obvious that some spicing has occured in this one as it yields sensations that I haven't before tasted in a beer, though subtle.

I'm sure I will have more soon, as soon as I crack a few of the special ales I've purchased for my family's arrival. Till then, I've gotta say how much i really like Hoegaarden Grand Cru. After all the hundreds of beers I've tried since arriving, this one still stands out. Amazing stuff.

Cheers.

2003-11-26T13:29:00.000-08:00

As our neighbor upstairs walks in circles doing god knows what with 50 lb shoes on, I sit here enjoying a well-settled Rochefort 8, a penetrable brown/brune/bruin with glints of garnet on the periphery. At 9.2% it is a beer that must be revered and not taken lightly, but as it rolls over my tongue as caramelly and nutty as an ice cream sundae, yet as dry as a perrier on ice, I look down at my half-empty glass and realize that I am not pacing myself all that well. The words become harder to find, and I start to think about creative ways to make the bitch upstairs disappear. It can't possibly be 9.2 I think, it's gotta be some sick Belgian joke that only they get, like that stupid boy pissing that they dress up in various outfits to celebrate the diverse peoples of the world and to honor those that died in the trenches of Ypres, or in the waves of Omaha. Or is it to mock them? As if to say, heh, what the hell did all you fools die to save Belgium for? We don't really care who rules us, as long as we can continue to make beer and eat our hearts into anaphylactic shock. What is Belgium anyway? Is it a Nation State? Barely, and not if you ask a Fleming. A Wallon might say "yes" but only because Wallonia is too sorry to have an identity of its own and they dont' want to be left out. Is it a people? Only if a people can be defined by a common love for beer, a complete lack of pride, and by a pathalogical state of passive aggressivity. Is it a Language? Heh heh heh, I laugh at the mere thought of that. When it comes to languages, these folks do as much switching as as a telephone operator. Depending on how far I ride the bus, I may either be laughed at for my French, or gang-raped for it. The Flemish don't particularly like being reminded of the growing Francophone minority in the country, while the Francophones think it a complete waste of time to learn Dutch. I can't say that I blame them. Dutch seems a highly trivial language in the world today. The language dilemma reaches all aspects of life. When I pick up a beer I often have no idea whether it is in French or Dutch. And depending on its origin, do I say the Dutch version of the French word, or the French pronounciation of the Dutch word, so as not to get a urine version of the tasty beer that wish I could just say in English? And there is no compromise on the highways. If you are in Brussels you will "convienently" get both the French and Dutch spellings of destination towns on the signage. But once you leave the relative safety of Brussels/Bruxelles and enter, say Brabant-Wallonnie, all the signage changes strictly to French, which means that the town of Bergen in Wallonia will now be referred to solely as Mons. Ghent becomes Gand, Antwerpen becomes Anvers, Aachen becomes Aix-la-Chapelle, Luik becomes Liege, Namespoort becomes Namur and so it goes. It was only a month ago that I still thought these were all different towns. And of course it all becomes infinetely more confusing after a baby-bottom-smooth glass of 9.2% Belgian ale.