The bitter taste of..... beer!

Hello everyone, and welcome back to the blog! It’s been a memorable winter, mostly because it never arrived, and we now have early summer instead of spring. Summer is definitely one of my top four seasons in which to drink beer, so the arrival of warm days and long evenings has also spurred me into making sure that my fridge is well stocked with bottles of my favourite tipple.

My wife asked me a few weeks ago why I never take her on a guided tour of the different beer styles of the world, and she had a point. We’ve been cycling around Germany several times, visiting dozens of lovely breweries in the process, but there are many beer styles that are hard to come by in Germany which are also worth sampling. Furthermore, by sampling them all as part of one guided tour, perhaps she would learn to appreciate the differences between them, and appreciate the vast variety of styles and tastes a bit more.

As a direct result of this, I wasted no time in waiting a few weeks before finally getting around to inviting a couple of friends over for a big tasting party. I originally had this concept that I’d order in beers from various online beer stores to get a real global selection, but of course the weather was too nice and I left it too late. So, instead, I cycled to the local super-supermarket, the one where they have more beer than you can poke a shaky stick at, whatever that means, and proceeded to buy a decent selection.

I wanted to mix a few typical German beer styles with a couple of typical non-German ones. I quickly chose the former: a Pilsner, a Märzen, a Munich Helles, a Munich Dunkles, a Doppelbock,a Kölsch, a Bock, a Schwarzbier and a Zwickl. That clearly leaves out a dozen or so styles from this country, but I figured there will be other occasions. The international selection wasn’t great, but I was able to find a lambic – an Oude Geuze from Boon no less – as well as an American-style Pale Ale. That meant that we had 11 different ones to drink our way through.

The concept for the evening was straightforward: the participants did not know which beer was served, but they got a list of all the beers with tasting notes from the RateBeer web site. The challenge was then to try and identify the beer on the basis of colour, nose, palate, mouthfeel and luck.

These tasting notes you find online are actually quite interesting. Not seldom do you see people describing beers using phrases like “freshly mown grass”, “old leather”, “not quite ripe raspberries” or “hints of a 15-year old single malt whisky”. Personally, I divide beer tastes into three categories: “malty”, “hoppy” and “yeasty”, which nicely corresponds to three of the four main ingredients in beer (I also use the last ingredient, water, to describe beers sometimes, but usually not in a positive context). Anyway, this didn’t help the participants of the evening very much, so I was forced to elaborate by claiming that malty is a bit like biscuit-y or bready, hoppy a bit like spicy, and yeasty a bit like flowery or fruity. As you can tell, I’m not very good at this myself.

The sheet with tasting notes and a handy pen

Nevertheless, as the evening progressed, it became quite clear that the taste buds had been sharpened, because one beer after another was correctly identified, at least by a majority of the participants. It turns out that individual tastes and colour perceptions vary, so there was considerable discussion and a couple of minor fist fights, but all in all an impressive amount of correct answers were given. Interesting was also the favourite beers of the group – the clear winner was the Belgian Lambic, which considering its sour taste is not one that usually wins out amongst people used to “normal” beer. The clear losers were the bitterest of the beers – the Pilsner and the American Pale Ale in particular.

The winning beer was a bit of a surprise

At the end of the evening, I was challenged to do a blind taste where I was not allowed to even see the beer before drinking it, and although I correctly identified the American Pale Ale, I managed to mistake the Munich Dunkles for a Pilsner. Yes, you read correctly. Even I, the taster of a thousand beers (and some), can make such elementary mistakes. It turns out the science of tasting is heavily influenced by sight, smell, mouthfeel, mood, and, last but not least, how drunk you are. Oh well, better luck next time.

The take-home message from the blog post is: try something new! If you regularly choose to stock up your fridge with the same “safe” selection, you’re missing out on some amazing taste experiences that you probably never knew existed. Even if you think that you don’t like beer very much, perhaps it’s simply because you have never tried the type of beer that suits your particular palate. With online beer shops sprouting up everywhere and beer selection improving in almost every supermarket, you’ll be spoilt for choice unless you live in some beer-forsaken place like Iran. Then, after you’ve stocked up, do a little research on the internet, invite a few friends over and try to taste the beer whilst having fun drinking it. A competitive element like blind tasting adds to the fun, as does having the next day off work.

In conclusion, I've learned a few things about beer. First and foremost, I've reconfirmed that I like pretty much every style of beer on the market. Then, I have observed that people who don't count themselves as particularly into beer can still enjoy drinking it. Finally, I have learned that it's not always easy to know one's arse from one's elbow, even though you perhaps thought you had those body parts figured out years ago. On this happy note I shall say a very merry night to you all - and may your fridges forever be well stocked. Terviseks!

What did the Belgians ever do for us?

Belgium is a strange country. For some reason it seems just the right size to be the basis for a myriad of comparisons such as the commonly seen “An area of rainforest the size of Belgium has been mowed down in the Amazon”, the perhaps not very accurate “The arctic sea ice has shrunk by an area several times the size of Belgium”, and the somewhat exaggerated “That woman has an arse roughly the size of Belgium”. 

Furthermore, its strategic location between the old arch-enemies France and Germany has resulted in the country repeatedly being used as a convenient shortcut for the Germans when they fancied occupying a bit of France for whatever reason. I'm not sure if the ease of travelling through Belgium by tank is related to the fact that it happens to be the country on Earth with the greatest variety of beer styles and the highest concentration of alcohol in its beers, but it sounds kind of plausible.

I’ve been to Belgium a few times, and I always look forward to going there with the anticipation of a child about to enter Disneyland for the first time. There are about 125 breweries dotted around this tiny country (which, incidentally, is roughly the size of Belgium), brewing at least 20 clearly distinguishable styles, from the standard, boring pilsner copies that you get everywhere in the world to the wonderful Lambic style which is only brewed by a handful of producers around Brussels.

The Lambic ales are the most remarkable I have ever had the pleasure of tasting. It is, in fact, something of a miracle that this ale can still be legally made since its fermentation is based on wild yeasts entering the fermentation vat from the air, very unlike the rest of the brewing world which uses strictly controlled yeast strains. For this reason, the vats are usually found in the attic of the brewery, where the air flowing in through the windows and cracks brings in loads of insects, pollen, spiders, perhaps a fortunate parachutist or two, as well as the magical wild yeasts. Everything goes into the beer, and if the conditions are right – as they happen to be in Senne valley where Brussels lies – the brew wort starts to ferment.

A €25 bottle of Geuze in Antwerp

I first came across Lambic when I visited the Cantillon brewery in Brussels more than a decade ago. This is one of just a few breweries that stick to the old-school way of making Lambic, which involves storing it for about three years and then blending the mature beer with some fresh beer to spark a second fermentation in the bottle. The bottles can then be laid down for several more years to mature and mellow. Such Lambics are called “Geuze”, and are highly regarded among connoisseurs. For the uninitiated the taste will probably come as a shock, because it is deliciously dry and will probably remind you more of a lemon than “normal” beer. Note that a number of blasphemic Lambic producers have started adding sugar or fruity mixtures to sweeten the beer. Such beers should be avoided at all cost. You have been warned.

Belgium has much more to offer, though. There’s the ale called “Duvel”, for example, which translates as “devil” and in this case, one in disguise. It’s a tasty, very drinkable ale which you can easily imagine accidentally drinking a six-pack of on a sunny afternoon whilst watching the cricket or some butterflies or something. However, since the beer clocks in at a respectable 8.5%, you may find yourself asleep well before sunset. I had the pleasure of visiting the brewery during my last trip, which is situated in a sleepy village called Breendonk, half an hour’s drive north of the crazy Brussels traffic. It’s a massive site which has expanded rapidly in the last few years, but they claim that they still stick to their old commitments to quality, and based on my own taste tests I chose to believe them. I can be very gullible went I want to.

Beer is served with style in Belgium

Then there are the famous Trappist beers. These much-copied but seldom-bettered beers are brewed – or at least “supervised” – by monks from the Trappist order. These monks must be very happy indeed, because the beers they brew – and presumably enjoy with their meals at regular intervals – are among the very best in the world. There are only seven Trappist breweries, six of which are in Belgium and one just across the border in the Netherlands. Most of their beers are easy enough to get hold of, but if you fancy a bottle or six from the Sint-Sixtusabdij in Westvleteren you have to phone in your order and turn up in person to pick up your allowed crate. The reward is worth it though, as the Westvleteren 12 is recognized as arguably the world’s greatest beer, with a complexity and richness of flavour that most other breweries can only dream of.

Trappist beer ages well - this one was brewed in 2002

Apart from beer drinking, Belgium also has some quirky things on offer such as a fabulous Tintin museum, a really big atom, a magnificent square, a massive all-European government and a complete lack of national government. It’s a must-visit country for any beer lover worth his or her malt, and since it’s conveniently flat and slightly smaller than Moldova, it should be about right for a week’s cycling holiday too. Perhaps I'll go and pump up my tyres. I also have some souvebeers in my fridge. I'm off. See ya!