Golden Days in Europe - Part 2 (Belgium/Holland)

08 December 2019

I’ve been putting off opening my advent calendar of unfinished business long enough. With a new year - and indeed a new decade if you follow the Christian numbering - fast approaching, I’d love at least a cleaner slate. As I tear off the first week’s strip of doors, out tumbles, with ontological contradiction, the unwritten reflections on Belgium and Holland from that Europe trip.

Memory is faded, but I have at least my tasting notes on which to reconstitute experience. The line between fact and fiction is blurred anyway, in keeping with the subject, so we will not let that stand in the way too much. Though perhaps by leaning on the raw notes the immediacy of those times past may gain some, and I struggle with the word, verisimilitude. In that vain spirit I’ll not alter the tasting notes except for typos.

We were staying, for the first few days in Leuven (where I was attending the Heart of Clojure). That town being the home of Stella Artois, I quickly innoculated myself with some of the local, if maligned, brew. I’m far more familiar with its reputation (especially in the UK) than its flavour, so comparisons are difficult. But in our hotel bar, on the Martelarenplein, around a mile from the brewery, it was a crisp, refreshing draft with a good hop presence. Reader, I enjoyed it.

With some free time the next day, we ventured into Brussels. And late (well, lateish) morning, I put together a flight in the touristy (though very pleasant and accomadating) bar diagonally opposite that statue.

I wrote (my first time writing in Belgium!) of the brews I chose, all on draught:

This country, as expected, even from the first (give or take) tasting had me hooked. We’re going to need to skip many details if we are to move forward - and indeed my notes are far from comprehensive.

One standout from many (and many good) bottles in Leuven was Cornet. It brought me some flavours I don’t think I’ve had in beer before, reminding my almost of single-malt whisky drinking days.

Ghent was rewarding in terms of beer variety. I don’t think there’s much of a connection to be made here outside of location of consumption.

I sense at this point in the trip I was finally feeling I’d covered the better known bases and could branch out.

We took a day trip to Bruges. Around lunch time a restaurant serving pizza caught my eye and nose (right about here). They had a phenomenal beer board (the pizza was good and interesting too). I think I only had one, but if it was more than one, then this one really caught my attention:

That brew was definitley a fusion - it was all Belgian in terms of technique and finesse, but also cried New World in its hopping.

Later in the day, we took the tour of De Halve Mann brewery, which I can thoroughly recommend - it’s full of education, humour and climbing up and down through the old (but still used) brewery. Back in the tap room, I really enjoyed the unfiltered Brugse Zot - it was about as fresh as it could be - yeasty and hoppy but with a tinge of sourness. I followed it up with a couple more: the 2019 expression of their Straffe Hendrick Wild Fermented Tripel and their Straffe Hendrik quadruple. My notes on the latter read “Very malty but dry with a touch of roast and fruity notes - pears, apples”. I didn’t take notes on the former, but I recall loving the hell out of it.

Then we were in Antwerp for the last day of our time in Belgium. The whole trip had been a Himalaya of excellence, but somehow I found a few higher peaks on that last evening. It’s best just to let the notes tell the end of the story.

Despite the problems typing, that last evening in Belgium was special. The Duponts were stunning. And I would like Flanders Red to be a part of my life.

And so to Holland. In Amsterdam, I enjoyed a couple of evenings at Harlem Soul Food which has a few taps of well-served ale and plenty of bottles (but I came back for the IPA).

I’m not sure if I had the next at the same bar or not, but it is the same brewery - and it showed them in a good light.

I’m going to finish this trip in Haarlem, a short train ride from Amsterdam. With a pint from one of the bigger Dutch breweries, Brand. Nothing big or special. In fact rather quiet and unnasuming. But perfectly brewed and with just the right combination of elements to satisfy a thirsty palate. And leave it wanting more.

Golden Days in Europe - Part 1

25 September 2019

I’m on my way to SEA Brew in Bangkok, and hope to post some reflections on that event in due course. But I’d first like to clear my head of my recent UK/Belgium/Holland beer trip (well, it was officially a family visit and a conference trip, but, you know…).

To be honest, I was not planning to write anything about the trip. I initially felt that the UK/European beer scene was my own scene, and as such that my take on it was inherently less interesting than my views on the nascent Asian brewing scene. But I’ve been prodded and corrected on this by a couple of people. It was actually my first trip back to home territory since I started brewing regularly over here in Asia. So perhaps that gives a twist to my perspective.

Fortunately I took plenty of notes on the 50+ brews I sampled during the trip. Rather than reproduce all that noise here, I’m going to try to summarise a few general reflections and high-points of the experience. These jottings are also filtered somewhat through time - it’s around 6+ weeks since I got back to the place I call home.

Let’s begin, as did my trip, in the UK. I was very keen to drink again the bitters and cask ales which form the backbone of my early beer memories (and, in many ways, the styles I hold in highest regard in my own brewing quest). I wanted to see how my own recent efforts compared with the real thing in its home setting, and gain some pointers and directions for the future.

We arrived in London during an unseasonably hot spell, with temperatures in the mid-high 30s (Celsius, of course). Perfect weather for light bitters, crisp lagers and golden ales fresh from the keg (and almost getting up to protein rest temperatures in the heat of the afternoon sun!). And the city delivered well.

Arriving late at night, I managed a couple of pints in the hotel before bed. The first was a Pale Ale from Camden Town Brewery. The brewery is now owned by AB-InBev, and, as I soon discovered, its beers are very widely available in London and beyond. It’s not where I would have chosen to start - but it was fast approaching midnight and had been a long flight. Still, there was something fitting about the beer - an American-hopped ale but brewed to the British palate, with a delicate hoppiness and a light malt base. Not bad at all.

Out in the heat the next morning, first stop was Borough Market for sundry food supplies (and a clutch of The Kernel Brewery bottles for later) . Of course I had to visit the Market Porter as soon as its doors were open. This pub never disappoints in terms of selection and how well served the ales are. First pour was Southwark Brewing Co’s Belair Park (brewed less than a mile away). And what a great starting point - a fresh golden ale with light, gentle citrusy hopping (that American twist but with British understatement again).

I wanted more. But I moved on to Pheasantry Brewing’s Single Hop El Dorado. Another British/American crossover, this one a slightly fuller and darker pale ale with a solid citrusy back-of-the-throat hoppiness. Final call of the morning was Big Smoke Brew Co’s Solaris Session Pale - a pint of pure magic. According to the verbiage, which I read after the fact, it’s an American Pale with Centennial/Cascade (does it get more classic American craft than this?), but you almost wouldn’t know given its light, intriguingly woody and herbal flavour. The morning session left me in a very happy place, optimistic for the trip. It was an auspicious start, and one that really set the tone.

Later in the day, thanks to a train delay, I managed a few more in The Euston Tap, housed in the station gatehouse. Most notable here was []Redemption Brewing](http://www.redemptionbrewing.co.uk/)’s Trinity Session Pale, a medium-bodied golden ale with a surprising creamy head, slight sharpness on the nose and a firm bitterness. Delay resolved, we headed North, to Shropshire.

I’ve ended up itemising most of my first day in the country. To continue in this vain would risk giving the impression that all I did was drink ale. Suffice it then to say that I found many more delights in line with the joys that London brought forth during the following days. It seems that ale in the UK is really in quite a good state. I first got into real ale as a student in London in the early 90s. Trips back in the 2000s left me fairly disheartened, as many of the fine pubs I used to know converted to bars with a few badly served commercial lagers and kegged beers on tap. That trend has definitely reversed. In fact I’d say that the beers now are better and more varied than back in student days. The influence of American brewing is obvious, but in a positive way - absorbed and incorporated into local styles rather than displacing them.

What did I learn, then, for my own brewing? The thing which most impressed in the best ales I had was their lightness of touch. Malt flavours came though, but without being assertively malty; hopping was present, distinctive, often interesting, but rarely forward and overpowering. In short, the UK remains supreme, in my mind, as the home of the session ale, which demands restraint and technical mastery. And that was best exemplified in those delicate, unassuming–but ever-so-quaffable–golden ales which welcomed my back to the homeland. Can I replicate that thousands of miles away - with less fresh ingredients and without going to cask? Probably not - but I can certainly make it my yardstick.

My plane leaves shortly, and this piece already growing longer than I intended. So I’ll leave it here for now. And maybe pick up the Belgian/Dutch leg of this trip in a future post. See you in Bangkok. (And I’ll try to add some images later. Maybe.)

Sourdough Fermented Beer

18 August 2019

Sometimes an experiment seems to appear out of nowhere. In this case, I was planning to make a shaken not stirred yeast vitality starter to make sure the yeast I’d carried around for ten days in Europe’s heatwave was still viable (it wasn’t). As such I had in hand some malt extract, and the impetus struck to make up an extra gallon of wort beyond the litre I needed and play a little.

Now one of the beers which made some impact on me during that Eurpoean trip was a gose I drank in Haarlem, just outside Amsterdam, a limited 2019 release of this beer. It was a light, subtle, sparkling draught with a slight acididity and a moreish saltiness. Just perfect after a walk around town on a sunny afternoon. And so I’d been thinking about the style a bit, and about brewing one - and I’d been reading up on kettle-souring as a result.

Lacking a pure lactobacillus culture, but being a regular sourdough baker, my mind had been turning over the idea of using sourdough culture for the souring. I’d just refreshed my starter after the trip and it was bubbling away on the counter. There was the spark. I figured I could use this as a trial run towards that sourdough kettle sour.

I drew off the liter I needed for the vitality starter and got that going. And then I brought the extra gallon of wort to the boil, dropping in 10g of Hallertau Tradition to give this somewhere around 20-25 IBUs of bitterness. When the boil finished, I realised I’d ended up with too little wort (and the gravity was 1.067) - maybe this was boil-off, but more likely a screw-up in measuring something. Anyway, topping up with water gave me my gallon of wort at 1.040. Just what the doctor ordered.

The next decision was pitching temperature. I settled on pitching at around 30C and letting it ferment at room temperature. That would allow the lactobacillus to get to work - though it could also lead to off-flavours from the saccharomyces. Still, that was the plan. After cooling as best I could in the sink (I didn’t have any ice), I finished off the temperature drop in the freezer, and pitched approximately 4 tablespoons of ripe liquid sourdhough about an hour later.

I left the brew in my basement which is currently around 25-30C. The next morning it was bubbling away, and there was a good krausen by afternoon (less than 24 hours after brewing). The real test, of course, is a week or so from now.