Category Archives: Belgium

Actually in Bruges

We’ve just come back from a long overdue weekend in Bruges. Summary: why have we been settling for Brussels for so long when a city this beautiful and this friendly was only another hour away?

On Friday, after a longer-than-necessary train journey (Eurostar’s been up the creek since the big train crash near Brussels a few weeks ago) we were ready for a beer, and so went straight to Cambrinus Bierbrasserie. It was cosy, busy and with a huge menu of well-chosen beers. As one punter said to us: “You English guys like beer, right? Well good luck because here, we got four hundred of ‘em!”

They have two house beers, blond and bruin, which both tasted like bang-on exemplars of those ‘styles’. They weren’t challenging, but nor were they at all unpleasant. How do the Belgians do it so effortlessly?

Next we moved on to offerings from De Struise, appealing both because of the reputation of the brewer and the need for something coming in at under 6% to keep us in the game. Kloeke Blonde had that dusty hop flavour we associate with Poperings Hommelbier, but was slightly sour, and very interesting too. Struise Witte certainly wasn’t a Hoegaarden clone — it had pear and/or pear drop flavours, and was also rather dry.

And, finally, Pannepot was flavour of the month a year or so ago. Late to the party, as ever, we decided to give the 2008 edition a go. Wowzers. This was like a very fruity stout with an intense, slick creaminess and no sharp corners at all, despite its strength (10%).  Proper dessert beer and a great way to wrap up a long day.

There’s more on Bruges to follow in the next week or so.

Kerstbiers at the Poechenellekelder

marzipansantas

We’ve just got back from a week away in Germany. On the way out, we spent a night in Brussels checking into our hotel not long before 10.30 pm on a rainy Tuesday night. That gave us just enough time to dash to our favourite pub, the Poechenellekelder, to try a few items from their very extensive Christmas beer menu.

Tsjeeses by Struise caught our eye because of the mysterious name which became less so once we said it aloud and saw the label, which features a cartoon of a very stoned Jesus with smoke curling from his mouth and ears. Tacky branding aside, it was a perfect Belgian blonde and absurdly drinkable at 10%. Not too sweet, not too bitter, definitely spicy but nothing you could pick out. Everything was in balance. It reminded us what we love about Belgian beer.

Palm Dubbel was  less exciting, but certainly not unpleasant. It reminded us of Leffe Radieuse, with the same kind of fruit flavour which makes you wonder if cherries have been added somewhere along the way.

Zinnebier Xmas (Brasserie de la Senne) reminded us of Fuller’s London Porter but was much easier to swig — less intense and with a lighter body. Roasted grains mixed with sour-fruit aromas. Fabulous.

Forestinne Nordika from Brasserie Caracole was the last we could squeeze in as the bar emptied and bills were paid. Luckily, it was also a hit, with a powerful sweet orange-peel aroma and flavour that we loved.  There was more fruit than spice and we guessed from the colour that it had been made with something like English pale ale malt as the base.

All in all, a successful start to our trip.

Still to come: we find a brewery making stout in Cologne; catch ourselves ticking mulled drinks; and find a surprising amount of decent beer in Northern Germany.

Beers we have hated

chimaytripel

The first time we had Chimay Tripel was on a trip to Brussells in around 2004. We were interested in beer, but not yet obsessed, and ended up in the Leffe Cafe because it was the only place that we stumbled on that looked vaguely welcoming.

We worked our way through the menu, trying such exciting beers as Stella Artois and Leffe Brune, before getting to the Chimay. We knew it was supposed to be something special, so had high hopes for a transcendent moment.

And we hated it. We found it literally undrinkable. It tasted of nothing but alcohol, and smelled like lighter fluid. It made our eyes sting. How could people enjoy beer that strong!?

For some years, the idea lingered in our minds that it was foul. Fortunately, we did give it another go, and learned an important lesson: our tastes can and do change over time.

A La Becasse, Brussels

irisalabecasse

We’ve been to Brussels loads of times now, but never made it to A La Becasse, famous for serving sweetened lambic in earthenware jugs.

We put that right on our most recent trip to Germany — we had a quick stopover in Brussels and fancied a sour hit.  It’s a nice little place, friendly staff and very handy for the Grand Place.  The lambic comes courtesy of Timmermans, and it is indeed sweetened and served in jugs.  It tastes not unlike sweet scrumpy cider, and is very refreshing, albeit not that exciting.  The lambic blanc is more interesting than the sweet lambic, as there is definitely more spiciness.

It wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for sourness, though, so we also ordered a bottle of Iris from Cantillon for the next round.  Oh, wow.  We’ve had this before, but forgot just how wonderful it is. Because it’s dry-hopped, you get an amazing aroma, like an American IPA, at the same time as the sourness takes over your tongue, and then a complex fruity aftertaste.

We vowed to stop off at Cantillon on the way back and stock up.

Old favourites

A bottle of Westmalle Triple beer

We spend so much time hunting down new beers that we sometimes neglect old favourites — well known beers we’ve had many times and always enjoyed.

Inspired by Tim Webb and Joris Pattyn’s excellent 100 Belgian Beers to Try Before You Die! (of alcohol poisoning, presumably…) we spent a recent Sunday in the Dove, Hackney, reacquainting ourselves with some classics.

Westmalle Triple, for example, is one of the world’s best beers, but easily overlooked because it’s relatively easy to come by. On this occasion an expert pour from an anxious barmaid gave it a head which stood an inch above the lip of the chalice, like a particularly appealing looking meringue. It tasted great, too, and reminded us why people make such a whoop-de-doo about Belgian triples. It was spicy, fruity and astoundingly complex.

We’re going to drink one a week from now on.

We’ve been in Germany. We wrote this post before we went.

Duvel: no dumb blonde

satanbeer

There’s no more illuminating way to taste beers than to try three or four supposedly similar specimens together. When we found ourselves in possession of two notoriously blasphemous Belgian beers (Satan Gold and Judas) we thought it would be fun to drink them along with their evident inspiration, Duvel. The experience gave us a new appreciation for this old favourite.

Satan and Judas look, too all intents and purposes, identical in the glass. They have the same rich golden colour; the same loose, bubbly head.

Satan first. What a let down after the fun and tacky packaging. It smells of pear-drops, nail polish and alcohol. There are some tart apple flavours which might work if they were balanced with bitterness. Sadly, this beer is hardly bitter at all. The stingy hand with the hops is countered by an overgenerous helping of sugar. All in all, a bit like drinking syrup.

Judas is somewhat better, though similar. Sugary: check. Fruitily acidic: check. It tastes, in fact, like stewed rhubarb, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. All in all, not a beer we’ll be hunting down, but definitely drinkable. Unlike Satan, this one didn’t end up down the sink.

And then onto Duvel, which suddenly looks and tastes like what it is — a very sophisticated, well-engineered beer. It’s lighter coloured and lighter bodied than either of its two imitators. The bitterness is refreshing and pronounced. Veritable hops indeed. Whereas Satan and Judas lost their heads almost immediately, Duvel has iceberg-like clots of foam all the way down to the last mouthful.

We have our winner. Just because it’s ubiquitous doesn’t mean Duvel isn’t brilliant.

Poechenellekelder, Brussels

Andreea in Belgium tipped us off to this pub a while ago. We popped in on the way out to Germany, and were utterly charmed by the place, so we stopped off for a longer session on the way home.

As Andreea says, it is right on the tourist path, and there are lots of tourists in it, but you would not describe it as a trap. Well, unless you were commenting on the narrow entrance stairs – seriously dangerous after a couple of strong belgian brews. It’s extremely cosy and welcoming, the kind of place you can while away hours. It has a couple of changing beers on tap, and an extremely long list of beer in bottles.

We stuck to the Christmas specials. Kerstpater (9%) and Gouden Carolus Christmas (10.5%) were on tap, so we started there.  The Kerstpater was warming and boozy, although the finish reminded us of lucozade (too sweet?).  Gouden Carolus was better, with a nice cherry-chocolate aftertaste.  We thought it wasn’t really nice enough to justify the 10.5% strength, but it set us up for the afternoon, and Andreea really liked it.

“Palm Double” was next. We can’t find any reference to it on the Palm website.  Bizarrely, it tasted almost exactly like a 4% British bitter, despite being much stronger.  On to Pere Noel, by De Ranke. At 7%, this is weak for a Belgian Christmas beer, but was our favourite of the day.  It has the same “musty” hop taste as their XX bitter, of which we’re big fans.  It’s different and refreshing, while still being Christmassy.

There were various parades going on outside for St Nicholas’s day, and at one point an entire marching band, sousaphone and all, squeezed their way in for a post-march booze up.  All of which added to the cosiness.  A highly recommended pub.

Boak

Gluhbier in Dresden

Liefmann's gluhbier at the Christmas market in Dresden

Liefman's Gluhbier in the Striezelmarkt, Dresden

We had a few hours to kill in Dresden and couldn’t resist a turn around the Christmas market. We ate junk food and were all geared up for a mulled wine when we spotted a stand offering Liefman’s Gluhbier.

The Germans — a rather conservative bunch, if we can be permitted to generalise — seemed bemused, but we and a handful of American tourists were up for it.

It tasted fantastic. A spiced version of their kriek cherry beer, it really didn’t taste much different to the cheap, fruity red wine they normally dish out. The spices are barely there, which we liked (too many cloves and too much cinnamon have ruined many a Christmas beer).

A couple of locals asked us what we thought and, with our recommendation, decided to give it a try. They seemed to enjoy it. Will Germans one day put fruit and spices in more of their own beers, rather than importing it from Belgium…?

Alternative Belgian beer styles

A ludicrously strong pale and a ludicrously strong dark Belgian beer, taken in Ghent.

Style guidelines. Doncha just love them? As homebrewers, we can see that they have their uses sometimes, if you’re trying to recreate a specific beer, or describe what you’ve created in terms that everyone will understand.

But the categories that exist for Belgian beers are pretty daft. Objectively speaking, is there actually much difference between a “Belgian Golden Strong Ale”, and a “triple”, at least as defined here? Or even a Belgian Blond Ale? “Dubbels” and “tripels” are surely only relative terms, depending on which brewery makes them.

At least the idea of separate styles for “Trappist” beer and an “Abbey” beer seem to have fallen by the wayside, although you still get sweeping generalisations such as:

“Finish is variable depending on interpretation (authentic Trappist versions are moderately dry to dry, Abbey versions can be medium-dry to sweet)”

Personally, I think we should start again with Belgian beer styles. My simpler categorisation would go as follows:

(1) witbiers

(2) sour ones

(3) fruity ones

(4) boring pilsners

(5) Belgian pale ales (you know, the ones that aren’t ludicrously strong)

(6) ludicrously strong pale beers

(7) ludicrously strong dark ones

Have I missed anything?

Obviously, within these, there are some huge ranges of flavours, but that’s the case with the guidelines as they currently stand. My classification is also easier for the layman to understand.

Next week: having sorted beer styles, how to end world hunger.

Boak