Falling In Love Again
If you saw the tweet that I posted when I returned from my holidays this year you may have an idea where this post is going, and if you didn't then the wording and colours above may give you an indication. This isn't a 'What I did on my holidays' blog although you will have to bear with me as it unfolds.
I expect, by the time you read this, that may already have taken your summer holiday, indeed you may be looking forward to next years. After the heatwave that was so different from our traditional experience of cloud and showers, the days are noticeably colder and the nights noticeably shorter even though we're still having the occasional warm day.
After our adventures in Budapest, Vienna and Prague last year we wanted to stay a little closer to home but still, much to the exasperation of the children, do a three city break, although not necessarily spread over three countries.
Brussels, Amsterdam and Antwerp were the three we chose. Easy to get to, we're only a half hour drive from Ebbsfleet International, and as both internal and international European train journeys are so easy to book online, one that didn't require to much effort to organise at short notice.
The day of our holiday dawned, up early we set off with the usual mix of excitement and trepidation which is customary on these occasions, and just over three and a half hours later we had checked into the Radisson Red Hotel in Brussels.
Drawers and cupboards explored, cases partially unpacked and following a quick freshen up (the children having laid on their beds and logged on to the wifi first obviously) we were down in the lobby ready to go out and explore. Well almost, we all suddenly realised that we were hungry, and the smell of food from the hotel restaurant proved too much of a draw, so we made our way to a booth and waited for the menu.
Whenever I go to a hotel, any hotel, I hope for some decent beer to be served. Belgium is the one place where this is almost guaranteed and thankfully our hotel was no exception. Ordering a glass of Mort Subite Gueuze, I marvelled at its arrival. A pale golden liquid topped with a shock of foam of the purest white served, as one would expect, in its own glass. Holding it in my hand it seemed to glow as I raised it to my lips, the faintly fruity sour aroma enticing me in. Drinking deeply I savoured its beautifully clean flavour, it had re-awoken something within me and I couldn't help but smile. I had fallen in love all over again.
My love affair with Belgian beer goes back further than I can begin to remember, and what my first beer from that country was I can only guess at. I would suspect that it was a Hoegaarden, its glass so different from those I was used to drinking from, its golden colour so beautiful in the sunshine, its cloudiness so intriguing, it may even have had a half slice of lemon on top, something I wouldn't dare consider now. Or maybe I would.
I would have been familiar with the style, having read about the delights of beer from the continent from Michael Jackson's writing and from studying Roger Protz's European Beer Almanac. I also remember ordering some of those Beers Of The World boxes from a site whose name escapes me from an advert or pamphlet in What's Brewing. The world did indeed seem a lot bigger in those days, and to be drinking beer brewed from China and Finland I felt like I was taking a leap into the unknown. I felt like I was exploring another culture, another country through their beer and I would wonder about those that had brewed it and what their lives must be like.
Another revelation. I started to find Belgian beers in off-licenses particularly Bottoms Up in Gidea Park, which was practically next door to where the Gidea Park Micropub is now (see previous post). Alongside bottles of Pete's Wicked Ale from the US and Schlenkerla from Germany were such Belgian delights as Orval and Westmalle. This was 1994. I was in heaven.
Fast forward a few years, and my first holiday abroad with my then girlfriend (now my wife) was to Bruges, spending days exploring the city and drinking in De Halve Maan with evenings turning into morning in 't Brugs Beertje. I still have some of the beer labels from that trip in one of my scrap books although how I got them off the bottles in one piece I can't imagine. I do remember drinking an awful lot of beer, including the fabled Westvletern 12 which was appeared one evening after talking to an English chap who had settled there for a few hours. I trusted him with my francs when he said he would pop out and come back with some cigars if we wanted some, and against my normal judgement, possibly swayed by alcohol and holiday bonhomie. He was true to his word however and he returned with the cigars about twenty minutes later, producing the beer was as a repayment of our trust. He told us the story of the brewery and the beer but I confess to not really knowing much about it then, and I think that by then I had gone beyond the stage where I could appreciate it.
It was the diversity and intricacy of Belgian beer that I was drawn to. Then there was the glassware, the history and the uncompromising way that the brewers ploughed their own furrow and the loyal following that some of the beers and breweries attracted both locally and internationally. There was always something different to suit my mood or the season.
Of course I still maintained a healthy interest in what was happening here in the UK and it was the explosion of what we now call craft beer here, and particularly what was happening in London, that turned my head, pick up my laptop and start writing.
As an interesting aside it was actually a Brit who had moved to Belgium who encouraged me to start writing my blog. You may be aware of Rob Mitchell as the artistic director and chief photographer of Belgian Beer and Food magazine or his beautiful photographs for Duvel Moortgat. To me he is an ex-schoolmate and still a friend to whom I owe thanks.
It can reasonably be argued that the craft beer boom in the United States was, in part, inspired by brewery founders and aspiring visits to Belgium and wanting to reproduce the beer that they found on their return home. Greg Hall at Goose Island was inspired by such a visit to use Brettanomyces in Matilda, and in The Oxford Companion To Beer, Garrett Oliver opens the entry on Belgium with the sentence, "Belgium is to beer what Cuba is to cigars and France is to wine." This is turn inspired the beer renaissance here in the UK.
What was happening all around me, particularly in London and my native Essex fired my imagination, excited my taste buds and fuelled my writing. I put Belgian beer to one side but never away. It was always there when I needed it, waiting in the background, never pushy, biding its time patiently waiting but occasionally reminding me how special it was. Highlights included many splendid appearances in various guises at the #SXBottleShare , an amazing holiday to Bruges with the children and a rather splendid stag weekend with several friends in Brussels where I returned with a bag full of as much beer as my bag could hold.
And so I come full circle to this years holiday. The delights of Brussels, introducing some of my favourite places to my family, discovering some new ones and finally making it to the Cantillon Brewery and sampling its many delights in-house with others who had made the pilgrimage for much further afield than me. Then there was Antwerp, home of the Bolleke. Discovering some fantastic places and incredibly friendly people, particularly at Billie's, and the experience that is the De Koninck brewery. Travelling back to Brussels on the train and glimpsing Mechelen, home of the Het Anker Brewery and planning a trip encompassing both there and Ghent.
Upon returning home I realised that my current feelings echoed elsewhere, with The Food Programme's The Mothership of Brewing: Beer and the Belgians striking a particular chord. It's still available on the BBC iPlayer Radio and well worth a listen.
The beers of Belgium are back in my life, although they never really went away, and whilst there may be plenty more to turn my head in the years to come I'll remember, like Dobie Gray sang in The "In" Crowd, 'Other guys imitate us, but the originals are still the greatest'.
This post is dedicated to the memory of Chris "Podge" Pollard, a friend and great supporter of my writing, particularly of his adopted Essex. It is to my eternal regret that I never made it on one of his legendary Belgium Beer Tours, and I shall miss his gruff voice, kind words, generosity and unfailing enthusiasm about beer in general and Belgian beer in particular.
Brussels, Amsterdam and Antwerp were the three we chose. Easy to get to, we're only a half hour drive from Ebbsfleet International, and as both internal and international European train journeys are so easy to book online, one that didn't require to much effort to organise at short notice.
The day of our holiday dawned, up early we set off with the usual mix of excitement and trepidation which is customary on these occasions, and just over three and a half hours later we had checked into the Radisson Red Hotel in Brussels.
Drawers and cupboards explored, cases partially unpacked and following a quick freshen up (the children having laid on their beds and logged on to the wifi first obviously) we were down in the lobby ready to go out and explore. Well almost, we all suddenly realised that we were hungry, and the smell of food from the hotel restaurant proved too much of a draw, so we made our way to a booth and waited for the menu.
Whenever I go to a hotel, any hotel, I hope for some decent beer to be served. Belgium is the one place where this is almost guaranteed and thankfully our hotel was no exception. Ordering a glass of Mort Subite Gueuze, I marvelled at its arrival. A pale golden liquid topped with a shock of foam of the purest white served, as one would expect, in its own glass. Holding it in my hand it seemed to glow as I raised it to my lips, the faintly fruity sour aroma enticing me in. Drinking deeply I savoured its beautifully clean flavour, it had re-awoken something within me and I couldn't help but smile. I had fallen in love all over again.
My love affair with Belgian beer goes back further than I can begin to remember, and what my first beer from that country was I can only guess at. I would suspect that it was a Hoegaarden, its glass so different from those I was used to drinking from, its golden colour so beautiful in the sunshine, its cloudiness so intriguing, it may even have had a half slice of lemon on top, something I wouldn't dare consider now. Or maybe I would.
I would have been familiar with the style, having read about the delights of beer from the continent from Michael Jackson's writing and from studying Roger Protz's European Beer Almanac. I also remember ordering some of those Beers Of The World boxes from a site whose name escapes me from an advert or pamphlet in What's Brewing. The world did indeed seem a lot bigger in those days, and to be drinking beer brewed from China and Finland I felt like I was taking a leap into the unknown. I felt like I was exploring another culture, another country through their beer and I would wonder about those that had brewed it and what their lives must be like.
Another revelation. I started to find Belgian beers in off-licenses particularly Bottoms Up in Gidea Park, which was practically next door to where the Gidea Park Micropub is now (see previous post). Alongside bottles of Pete's Wicked Ale from the US and Schlenkerla from Germany were such Belgian delights as Orval and Westmalle. This was 1994. I was in heaven.
Fast forward a few years, and my first holiday abroad with my then girlfriend (now my wife) was to Bruges, spending days exploring the city and drinking in De Halve Maan with evenings turning into morning in 't Brugs Beertje. I still have some of the beer labels from that trip in one of my scrap books although how I got them off the bottles in one piece I can't imagine. I do remember drinking an awful lot of beer, including the fabled Westvletern 12 which was appeared one evening after talking to an English chap who had settled there for a few hours. I trusted him with my francs when he said he would pop out and come back with some cigars if we wanted some, and against my normal judgement, possibly swayed by alcohol and holiday bonhomie. He was true to his word however and he returned with the cigars about twenty minutes later, producing the beer was as a repayment of our trust. He told us the story of the brewery and the beer but I confess to not really knowing much about it then, and I think that by then I had gone beyond the stage where I could appreciate it.
Returning from Belgium I became completely obsessed with the beer, buying it from online retailers, joining beer clubs where I could get it and, even though I wouldn't to back to the country for another twelve years, discovering I could get a taste of both the beer and cuisine at the various Belgo establishments across London and The Belgian Monk in Norwich, close enough to Beccles where my parents had moved a few years before.
As an interesting aside it was actually a Brit who had moved to Belgium who encouraged me to start writing my blog. You may be aware of Rob Mitchell as the artistic director and chief photographer of Belgian Beer and Food magazine or his beautiful photographs for Duvel Moortgat. To me he is an ex-schoolmate and still a friend to whom I owe thanks.
It can reasonably be argued that the craft beer boom in the United States was, in part, inspired by brewery founders and aspiring visits to Belgium and wanting to reproduce the beer that they found on their return home. Greg Hall at Goose Island was inspired by such a visit to use Brettanomyces in Matilda, and in The Oxford Companion To Beer, Garrett Oliver opens the entry on Belgium with the sentence, "Belgium is to beer what Cuba is to cigars and France is to wine." This is turn inspired the beer renaissance here in the UK.
Like I said before, I've fallen in love with Belgian beer all over again, and whilst I've found some new breweries and noticed that some of the styles are influenced by what is happening in the industry worldwide they have also been exploring their own history and resurrecting some older recipes and styles, like the Seefbier I enjoyed so much in Antwerp.
This post is dedicated to the memory of Chris "Podge" Pollard, a friend and great supporter of my writing, particularly of his adopted Essex. It is to my eternal regret that I never made it on one of his legendary Belgium Beer Tours, and I shall miss his gruff voice, kind words, generosity and unfailing enthusiasm about beer in general and Belgian beer in particular.
A lovely article Justin, and one which has whetted my appetite for a return visit to Belgium, It's three years since I was last in the country and whilst I'm reasonably acquainted with Brussels and Bruges, I've yet to spend time in both Antwerp and Ghent.
ReplyDeleteI'd also like to explore the Ardennes region as well so, for me, there are still plenty of beery delights waiting for me in Belgium.
Finally, I'm saddened to learn of the passing of Chris Pollard ("Podge"). I never had the pleasure of meeting him, or of going on one of his many Belgian Beer Tours. I kept promising myself that I would, but now it is too late. It's surely a lesson that, as with so much in life, we need to take the chances that are offered to us before it is too late.
Thanks Paul, and you're right, we all need to take our opportunities where we can as who knows what tomorrow may bring.
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