Beer Guerilla: Let us Brew

Beer Guerilla: Let us Brew

Will Beckett gathers his robes to put Trappist beers to the test. in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti...

Let me tell you a story. In the late 11th century lived a woman called Matilda of Tuscany, who was a countess. Her life had been hard (her father was murdered, her mother remarried Godfrey the Bearded and she in turn was forced to marry his son, Godfrey the Hunchback, whom she despised), but she was wealthy and schooled in the art of war, and left behind her a legacy of triumph in battle, church building and a sizeable endowment to the Pope on her death. She earned the nickname La Gran Contessa – which if you can’t translate yourselves you should probably revert to reading comics about beer instead of the literary pearls I am casting before you.

In her later life, as a widow, she was wandering through Belgium (as pious, bellicose aristocrats are wont to do) and, to her dismay, lost her wedding ring in a fountain. Distraught, she prayed to God to return the ring to her, no sooner having done so than a trout rose from the water with the ring in its mouth. She swore to build a monastery on that very spot, and it is in that monastery, called Orval, that Trappist Cistercian monks have
been brewing the beer of that name for hundreds of years.

You can imagine, I’m sure, that a beer guerilla as awestruck by the mysteries of faith as I am, would envisage a quasi-religious beer pilgrimage. I would pack light, probably walk to the south coast and hop on a fishing boat to Belgium where I would knock on a monastery door...

The thing is, it was raining a bit when I was about to make the trip, and I really don’t like getting my shoes wet. I needed somewhere steeped in the romance of beer, with ties to the monastic tradition, 15 minutes in a cab from my front door, and where I could pick up a decent bite to eat if I got a bit peckish. There was, of course, only one solution – Belgo.

So, having braved brutal temperatures of 19°C and mild drizzle, I arrived, clutching five Trappist beers and yearning for a decent bowl of mussels with chips.

In order to explore the flavours and understand the importance to the monks of brewing beer to fulfil the rule of ‘living by their own hand’, I hand-picked two of the staff, complete with a uniform that I can only assume is a mock monastic habit, and got to work. I should note that the fact that I picked the two most attractive female members of staff and not the big hulking bloke who looked exactly like a Cistercian monk is pure coincidence.

Trappist Beers

The 48th chapter of the Rule of St Benedict states ‘for then are they monks in truth, if they live by the work of their hands’. So at Trappist breweries, the beer is only sold to financially support the monastery and other good causes. Many only produce enough beer to satisfy these needs, and there are occasional shortages as a result.

Orval, 6.2% abv

Orval is made unlike other Trappist beers, with wild yeasts and dry hopping. Not for the faint hearted, but a favourite of devoted beer geeks: hoppy and bitter, it gives off an incredibly complex array of flavours, including grapefruit, cinnamon, and a whisky-like maltiness.

Rochefort 8 9.2% abv

The monks of the Abbey of Notre-Dame de Saint-Rémy, near the town of Rochefort, are part of a brewing tradition going back to 1595. This, their middle beer, is dark brown in colour, and the main flavours we noted were of dried fruits: raisins, dates, figs. I’m told that the monks themselves actually don’t drink it that much, and I’m afraid that doesn’t make any sense to this beer guerilla.

Westmalle Tripel 9.5% abv

Westmalle popularised the idea that a double beer should be dark and medium in strength, and that a triple should be stronger and paler. The latter, brewed by the monks of the Abbey of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart (which sounds much cooler in Flemish – Abdij van Onze-Lieve-Vrouw van het Heilig Hart) is widely considered a classic. There’s a hit of vanilla on the nose, as well as a spiciness. I also picked up quite light honey and grape flavours.

Chimay Bleue 9% abv

The brethren of Scourmont Abbey produce three beers and a selection of cheeses (which, presumably, I’ll have to taste in my forthcoming column ‘Cheese Commando’). The Bleue like many of the Trappist beers, evolves over time. It’s a fruity beer with a lingering chocolate/malty flavour.

La Trappe Tripel 8% abv

You might think that this is a purely Belgian gig, but there is in fact one non-Belgian Trappist brewery – the De Koningshoeven Brewery in the Netherlands. La Trappe is a clean, sharp beer with light, fruity notes and a sour citrus aftertaste. The Belgo monkettes, of course, wouldn’t deign to enjoy a Dutch Trappist beer, so I was left to drink it on my own.

All beers available from James Clay, 01422 377560

Editorial feature from Imbibe Magazine – November/December 2011