Archive for Beer a Day
Trappistes Rochefort 6
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Here we are, week two. It’s been a fun trip through Trappist brews, but I’m starting to get itchy for some variety. There are so many different Belgian beers, and so many different styles to try, I cannot possibly sample them all one day at a time.
So we’ll progress through the Rochefort beers over the next few days, jump into Orval, and then try a few non-Trappist brews before taking a breather. Afterall, if I drink all of my Belgian beer now, what will I have to look forward to later?
As it happens, Rochefort 6 was a pleasant change of pace even without changing styles.
This brown ale had a modest (by Trappist standards) 7.5% ABV, and came in the now-familiar bowling pin bottle. The beer was about 45 degrees when I opened it, and I’m pleased to report it didn’t threaten to erupt or surprise me like the last couple of beers have. My bottle had lots of thick sediment, but I managed to keep most of it in the bottle — those bits that found their way into the chalice sank quickly to the bottom.
Rochefort 6 generated a huge, noisy head. I set the glass down and just listened to the beer. The fizz sounded like frothy waves along a rocky beach. But the head was short-lived. It faded quickly to nothing, with zero lacing.
Alvinne Extra India Pale Ale
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It’s IPA Monday, but kicking back with an India Pale Ale doesn’t mean we have to stop our virtual tour of Belgium.
I combed the shelves of my beer store and finally found an IPA made in Belgium. And it wasn’t easy to find — the stubby, 11.2 oz bottle from Picobrouwerij Alvinne has a label nearly camouflaged with hops. And if all those hops were too subtle, the label explains the beer is “EXTRA India Pale Ale Restyled”.
The Picobrouwerij Alvinne’s website provides more detail:
The Extra Restyled was first brewed in 2008, marking the first time our brewery used American hop types such as Chinook and Amarillo. It is a considerably bitter beer that tastes of citrus, pineapple, peach . . . the aftertaste is very bitter and dry and continues for a long time.
Full disclaimer, I used a web translation service and some guesses to come up with the translation above. If you speak Dutch and can help, please weigh in via the comments below!
Seconds after I lifted the cap on the Alvinne Extra, foam rushed up from the bottle and began pouring down the sides. I caught as much of the sticky foam as I could in my Duvel tulip glass and carefully poured the aromatic beer. A HUGE head formed and the smell of yeast and hops filled the room. The head didn’t last very long, though — it evaporated from the inside out, turning skeletal before fading away completely.
Alvinne Extra is pale gold, very hazy, with some sediment and floating particles. The aroma is a combination of fruity Belgian yeast and citrusy hops. For moments I would recognize the aroma as an IPA, but then something would shift and the yeast would dominate the aroma. The blend is very interesting.
Achel Blond 8°
Posted by: | CommentsThere’s a method to the madness of this virtual tour of Belgium. I’m starting with Trappist ales as a baseline, then branching out into other styles and types of beer.
Friday and Saturday I dug into Westmalle, thoroughly enjoying the abbey’s Dubbel and Tripel. So it seemed appropriate to follow Westmalle with Achel, because Achel may not be brewing beer today without the help of the monks at Westmalle.
According to Wikipedia, this brewery on the northern tip of Belgium is the smallest of the seven Trappist breweries. Dutch monks built a chapel in Achel in 1648, which became an abbey in 1686 and then a pile of rubble during the French Revolution. Eventually, 1844 to be exact, the monks from Westmalle rebuilt the abbey — though it didn’t become a Trappist monastery until 1871. Beer began flowing, but trouble reared its head in the form of German occupation during World War I, when the brewery’s copper was looted. Not until 1998 did the monks decide to have another go at brewing. Westmalle helped once again, joined in the effort by the monks from Rochefort (whose beer we’ll be focusing on next week).
The Achel 8° series (Blond, Bruin, & Extra) began in 2001. They also brew Achel Bruin 5° and Achel Blond 5° which are only available on tap at the abbey.
Westmalle Tripel
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One thing to come from this trip through the Trappist ales — I really enjoy Tripels. Strong, crisp and refreshing, Tripels are hard to beat.
Westmalle Abbey is said to have invented the tripel style in 1934, which they originally called a “superbier”. Deservedly, their website describes the beer as the “mother of all tripels“:
This type of beer was first brewed in Westmalle abbey in 1934 when the new brewing hall came into use. The current formula has stayed practically unchanged since 1956, thus more than 50 years.
Indeed, why mess with perfection?
Westmalle Tripel is 9.5% ABV. Like the Dubbel, the Tripel recommends serving at 45-50 degrees Fahrenheit and comes in a bowling pin bottle, but with a pale yellow label. It also popped when opened and fizzed to fill the neck, though less exuberantly than the Dubbel.
Westmalle Dubbel
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Continuing in the Trappist vein, Westmalle Dubbel seemed the next logical step after Chimay. And it didn’t let me down.
The Westmalle site explains that the monks have brewed a dark Trappist ale “along with their table beer” since 1856. They modified the recipe and began brewing a heavier version in 1926 (considered the first Dubbel ever brewed), which became the foundation for the Westmalle Dubbel available today.
I’m not sure which is more impressive — that the recipe for Westmalle Dubbel has been in the works for 153 years, or that this ancient monastery has a nicer website than I do.
Westmalle’s label recommends serving at a just slightly chilled 45-50 degrees Fahrenheit, and since my bottle had been in the fridge I let it sit on the counter for nearly half an hour to come up to temperature. It came in a long, 11.2 oz bottle with a brown label and raised lettering (TRAPPISTENBIER) collaring the neck. This elongated bottle wouldn’t look out of place at the opposite end of a bowling lane — though in my experience, beer tends to stay with the bowlers, not the pins.
There’s no cork in this small bottle, but when I lifted the cap — POP! — it exhaled with the enthusiasm of champagne. The reason for the long neck became apparent, filling quickly with a rich foam that threatened to escape in its eagerness.
