Right or Ranke

I just awoke from a massive slumber here at the farm after a week of real, solid work. Urbain had Roger and me busy packing boxes of Black Albert for the U.S. market (I switched the addresses - all 315 cases are being sent to Alstead, NH) and preparing the schoolhouse for its grand opening this Friday. I parted from life at Struise for two days, however, to join another giant in the Belgian and world beer scene for some brewing and bottling. Nino Bacelle and Guido Devos of Brouwerij/Brasserie De Ranke in Dottignies kindly allowed me into their brewery to wreak some hoppy havoc. It was two days of brewing and bottling on a new system designed after the familiar Deca brewery of which I have become so fond. My heart beats only for Deca... Nino and Guido had originally started just as Urbain had: renting out Deca to brew their own bubbly. After ten years of service to the Deca brewery gods they got the chance to build their own playground and designed the system after Deca to capitalize on its familiarity and tradition. De Ranke uses mostly whole hop flowers in the boil and in the lagering tanks; the beers produced right after the fall hop harvest are a trip, aromatically and nasally speaking.

Hops, in the nude

I shadowed Guido on Friday as he brewed XX Bitter, Belgium's first popular bitter beer and an incredibly crisp, zesty piece of work. It's got some great floral hop character in the nose and a special Belgian spiciness from the yeast. I got there at the ass-crack of dawn as the grain was being hoisted dustily into the mill; malt boogers don't make a complete breakfast. After the mash Guido ran the filter from several drains in the mash tun. The first runnings of the wort (the "malt tea," essentially) are usually cloudy due to suspended malt particles, but eventually the wort runs clear as it's filtered by the husks of the grain. We had a 20-minute delay when the wort coughed and started to run cloudy in the middle of the filter, but, as the Belgians say in their ebullient English accent, it was "no problem."

Guido at the mash tun

Saturday was a bit monotonous, wrapping paper around hundreds of stylish De Ranke bottles, but there was company and a retro stereo that played half Belgian pop and half American hits from two years ago. Some lucky Americans will be getting some XX Bitter wrapped by blue-blooded American hands. Noir De Dottignies, their dark, bitter stout-ish option, and Guldenberg, a solid strong blond named after local abbey ruins, were also wrapped and bound for USA. Meanwhile, Guido and Nino bottled their Christmas sipper Père Noël, spiced with just a tingling touch of licorice.

I was starstruck for a second, too. Well, it happens with all brewers, but this time it was an author. Yvan De Baets has authored some books about beer and I had just finished Farmhouse Ales about traditional French and Belgian agrarian refreshers, to which he contributed a chapter. He was there with Bernard Leboucq, and both are brewing their own beers at De Ranke under their Brasserie de la Senne label. Luckily I had been wasting my life away on youtube recently and had seen him exploring some German beer caves, otherwise he would've just been another mysterious brewer.

The polka-dotted Prince of the Payottenland

The bucolic Mediterranean crags and shores of Italy beckoned me on Friday night. Guido and Nino were kind enough to invite me along to an Italian beer tasting led by the country's finest beer ambassador, Lorenzo Dabove. 'The Prince of the Payottenland' gave the local beer club several samples of Italian beer whilst waxing poetic about each and expounding on their emerging craft beer scene. While I have to say I wasn't entirely impressed with all the beers (some were funky, some were flat), I applaud the creativity and spiritedness overall and the raw quality of some. Macca Meda, a new beer from Birrificio Barley (Sardinia), was fantastically hoppy, crisp and characterful, a cousin to American IPAs. Chocarrubica from Grado Plato (Turin) stole my heart, though; a moderately strong oatmeal stout with cocoa beans and carob? For a guy who actually enjoys - no, craves - carob? C'mon, it's an easy win. Thanks again to the De Ranke dudes for the insider weekend and beer tasting.

Gotta get this for my dad, he'd love it

Another day, another bottle

The pipes bleed with Black Albert

Hey folks, I think I'll keep posting my entries on this site, too, but don't forget to visit the blog at Struise's website: http://struise.noordhoek.com/eng/index.php?option=com_mojo&Itemid=138

Here's the latest:

It’s been just a week here in Belgium for me, but I’m afraid it’s got me hooked. It’s not just the beer, of course. Well, you could certainly design a Belgian vacation just around beer and I’m sure you’d have a hell of a time – that’s basically where I started – but the people are what make traveling worthwhile. Good beer can be damn good, but it’s also all about enjoying a good beer in great company, and perhaps that’s why Belgium has retained such a strong culture of beer; the Belgian people are some of the friendliest on this sphere of teeming life. They remind me a bit of what I imagine most Midwesterners are like. Any Chicagoans out there?

So, I’m having a good time with the beer, the buddies, and the bikes. Couchsurfing.com has been both a lifesaver and a friendbooster. Krist, my host in Kortrijk, took me on an 85-kilometer bike ride along part of the Ronde van Vlaanderen, Belgium’s world-famous bike “race” (it’s called something else, like “premier” or “tour” or something more official). The crisp, cool Belgian countryside was comforting in its agrarian stillness and beauty. My ass, however, was not comfortable despite the skin-tight, padded biking garb. In Poperinge I’ve stayed several nights with Wim, a soft-spoken, overly likeable young organic farmer. His hospitability is unbelievable, and his dinner portions are plenty to get me through the heavy days of biking in the rain. I wish I could stay at Wim’s for the whole winter.

I’ve got some more good news. Good news for me and good news for you readers out there, all five of you. The news means I’ll be posting more eye candy for several months to come, so get yourself hungry (or thirsty) for this sweet and spicy commentary. The news is that I’ve almost solidified my schedule until March, and there are some big shots in the mix. My plan is to develop a home base with Urbain, working for Struise on and off when his farmhouse is empty of visitors. When the farm inn is booked, I will jump from brewery to brewery. Glenn and Davy from Picobrouwerij Alvinne have been very welcoming, so I hope to spend more brewing and bottling days with them. I’ll be tagging along with Glenn this weekend to a festival in Zottegem and also at the end of this month near Amsterdam, at a festival De Molen brewery is hosting. In late February I’ll be staying at Glenn’s folks’ home to help Alvinne prepare for the pre-ZBF fizz-fest. Pre-ZBF is the smaller, gourmet, all-star beer festival right before the big ZBF fest in Belgium. Daniel Thiriez, of Brasserie Thiriez in Esquelbecq, France (right across the border), has agreed to host me for the second half of November. Daniel’s beers, so I’ve heard, are of his own brand; he brews them fresh and zippy, full of both French and Belgian farmhouse character. I’ve also met with Nino Bacelle of Brouwerij De Ranke in Dottignies, Belgium. I will be helping out on several occasions over the next few months, though since they only brew once or twice a week I won’t be resting my dome on their pillows. Perhaps couchsurfing will come to my rescue then. Perhaps there will be more breweries to visit: Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, or Swedish. English, Irish, Scottish, or German, too. “Networking” is the new buzzword these days, and the brewing industry is not immune to such trendy business concepts.

The week hasn’t just been an orgy of organizing (though I did lose a whole night of sleep just thinking about my plans). I joined Urbain at Deca again, this time for some cleaning and transferring. We (mostly he) cleaned two conditioning tanks where the Black Albert he brewed recently was pumped for further development. I spent a good ten minutes scrubbing the inside of one tank, all alone in the dark cavern with only my green scrubbie to give the surface a good rubbing. Urbain cleaned another and proceeded to fill both with Black Albert. One tank got a special treatment: five kilograms of the finest Colombian coffee beans was added as an experiment. I’ll keep you updated on that. Urbain’s method of sanitizing the tanks is certainly unique. He insists on using a lovely substance (that old-school science teachers know all too well) to rid the interior of the tanks of any lurking microbe. A pot of the stuff is set on a small propane burner, placed inside the tank, and lit. The door is closed and the substance evaporates, coating the inside and making it clean enough to eat an endive salad on. Or chocolate pudding, if you’re like me. This step is necessary to keep the beer free of infection. Urbain treated me to a delicious sandwich with some reddish mystery meat, accompanied by a solid, earthy Struise Pannepeut. The beer was a meal in itself.

My meeting with Nino of De Ranke was, as it is with many brewers, more than just a meeting. Nino, a stylish man with stylish tastes and stylish hospitality, brought me from his home to the brewery for a tour and tasting. I guess when I say stylish I mean classy but workmanlike. His beers perfectly reflect his character: clean and smooth, robust yet refined. We made our way through the aromatic Guldenburg, solidly hoppy and characterful XX Bitter, caramelly Noir de Dottignies, bitter Christmas brew Père Noel, and the Cuvée and Kriek De Ranke, two blended beers using a young De Ranke beer and a lambic from the Girardin brewery – the kriek is aged on whole cherries. After our rendezvous at the spotless and ingeniously designed brewery (it’s brand new but designed in a very traditional way), Nino brought me back to his home and bought us some real Belgian fries. We ate with his wife and had a nice visit, replete with mayonnaises and sauces in pastels of red, green, and yellow; I could’ve replicated a Monet on the kitchen wall, but for some reason I didn’t. Anyway, fries are treated differently over here.

Yesterday was another, shorter day at Alvinne. Davy and I worked the bottling line, filling bottle after bottle with their tripel and a “smoky bock” beer brewed specifically for the De Molen festival on Halloween. Davy fed the bottles and caps into the machine and I packed them into boxes and crates for all the happy customers. Tomorrow I’ll be back for another brew day and then Glenn and I are off to the Zottegem festival before I head back to France. But for now, I’m taking a day off, lounging in a sleeping bag and being thankful that I’m dry. Be back soon.
-Owen

Finally, a few photos!

At Alvinne: Davy, left, and Urbain, looking a bit blurry in the morning (or is that the photo?)

Deca Brewery, where Urbain conducts his magic. Ten points if you can find him.

Evidence of the mash at Alvinne. If you look closely, past the big face, you can see whole hops in the mash. This adds an even further hop presence to Pipedream.

(Sort of) Brewing... Finally!

Jenlain Ambrée (or Bière de Garde) in its shimmering copper garb

The original Budweiser (Budvar)

The grandeur of Bordeaux

Strange figures, weird figures in the mist of Bordeaux

I've spent some time in the brewery, and not a moment too soon. Gerolf allowed me into his concoction room last week for the brewing of what I assumed was his blonde. It was a bit like the day of the rabbits; I did a lot of observing and not too much participating, but it was helpful nonetheless.

When I awoke at the usual time, Gerolf had been up for a couple of hours heating the water and "mashing in" the malted barley. He heats the water to a specific degree, adds the grains, and lets them soak at various temperatures to extract the sugars and proteins from the barley. Gerolf's set-up is as follows: two vessels for heating the water (called kettles... I think both have 1000 liters in capacity), a smaller mash tun to soak the malt, four fermenting/conditioning tanks, a filtration system, and a bottling machine that can fill six bottles at once, plus a variety of hoses, tubes, and tools. I stepped into the steamy brewery as he was rinsing the bed of grains to get the last bit of extracted sugars from the malt. This sweet liquid was pumped back into one of the kettles that had heated up the water previously and was further heated to reach a boil. When it boiled, Gerolf added the hops and allowed this "wort" to boil for another 1.5-2 hours. Finally, he pumped this hot wort (it's not "beer" until it has fermented) through the filter and into one of the fermentation tanks, where the added yeast will gobble up all that delicious maltose, maltitriose, and whatever other sugars are yeast-friendly. Pretty much all of this was performed by Gerolf while I hovered over his shoulder, but he did allow me to mop up and clean the mess on the floor.

Yesterday I helped Gerolf clean his bottling machine, which I assume is in preparation for a bottling session. Looking forward to it. I think a total of 10 beers are made on a regular basis here, 6 of which I've tried. He makes a blonde and an ambrée, three fruit blondes (raspberry, blueberry, and peach), a chestnut blonde, a walnut ambrée, a truffle blonde, and a blonde and ambrée with cocoa beans. They are all quite lively with carbonation, fruity on the palate (some mellow tropical fruits), and just ever-so-slightly acidic, which makes them refreshing though I'm not sure if this is intentional. The blonde and ambrée thing is typical of this area, and of France and Belgium in general. It basically means the brewery's light and dark options. The concept of different "styles" of beer is largely an American phenomenon, where the cliché of a melting pot holds true in the brewing world. Without a lenghty brewing history, American brewers have looked to their roots to figure out what to brew, and with the adventurous craft brewing revolution in the 70s and 80s the idea was to provide more and better choices for beer drinkers, hence all the styles we have available. In France, you really just brew beer. It is what it is - it's the French "style".

Anyway, in other news, I took a trip to Bordeaux and spent most of the day on my feet, exploring the beautiful architecture and the riches that were (and still are) the wine trade. I walked up and down the city, entered a wine cave-turned-museum that was a bit over my head because wine is still very foreign to me, and found a lovely market with charcuteries, fromageries, boulangeries, and fruit and vegetable stands. I bought my very own chèvre, a loaf of bread, and an apple and enjoyed a very French picnic in a garden in front of the endless rows of wine merchant houses, facing the Garonne River. I have Erica to thank for the cheese! It was a lightly-aged, creamy, tangy cheese with just a hint of that goatiness that you either love or hate. I happen to enjoy it, and the mini-wheel kept me satiated for the 20 miles I think I walked that day.

This Tuesday, my birthday, is also the day I will be driving to Belgium with Gerolf. I know this won't be the last time I will be in Belgium, but it will certainly be the first and is shaping up to be a whirlwind, life-altering trip. I plan to take full advantage of the couchsurfing site. On the menu: a visit with Urbain Coutteau of De Struise, perhaps a little detour to Westvleteren Abbey, a night with a Belgian couchsurfer, a visit to Picobrouwerij Alvinne, an attempt to convince De Ranke Brouwers and/or Brasserie Thiriez to apprentice me, and puh-LENTY more in and around these destinations. I'm not planning on sleeping for a week.

Cloudy with a Chance of Beer

Gerolf dresses the rabbit

Perigueux: this dead-end alley fooled me

Finally, I will be posting a few pictures. I've taken so many it's just made the task of choosing which ones to post so much more daunting, hence the stalling.

But first, what have I been doing for the past several days? Well, I've been doing a lot of the usual farmwork: harvesting green beans, planting lettuce and chard, picking apples, getting the knees dirty. I've also helped Gerolf with a couple of very odd property maintenance jobs, like spraying a fields-worth of ferns with some unknown smelly substance, and igniting patches of dead blackberry bushes, creating flames that licked the wispy grey stratus clouds. I've also enjoyed some entertainment. I visited nearby Perigueux, capital of the Dordogne region. It's a beautiful little city, replete with its own rich history that is reflected in some of the beautiful architecture. They even have a few ancient ruins. At the farm, I've been getting in a bunch of solid reading time. My books of choice: Great Beers of Belgium by Michael Jackson (betcha didn't know he was into beer, eh?) and Tim Webb's Good Beer Guide: Belgium.

I'm getting a renewed excitement about my future plans here in Europe. First of all, I should be helping Gerolf brew tomorrow. For a while I was a bit disappointed that he doesn't brew very often. I still would like to brew more, but I'm getting a second wind of enthusiasm for this journey as I plan for the coming months. Gerolf has been extremely helpful in making contacts with brewers and cheesemakers. A friend of his might be able to accommodate me on his sheep's cheese farm in the French Pyrenees, and Gerolf helped me get in contact with one of the owners of Brouwerij De Ranke in Belgium. I plan to meet the owner on a trip to Belgium later this month, and if he likes me (or if I learn French) I might be able to work out an apprenticeship with the brewery. Perhaps a more promising lead is with Brasserie Thiriez in Esquelbecq (northern France). During a visit to Allagash Brewing in Portland, ME, I met the head brewer, Jason Perkins, and heard from him about an American who did a similar trip at Thiriez. I emailed Daniel Thiriez, the owner and brewer, and got a potentially positive reply. Again, he requested that we meet in person, and, again, it would help if I spoke some French. Ah, c'est la vie, non? During this quick trip to Belgium later this month I will also be joining Picobrouwerij Alvinne and Brouwerij Huyghe for their respective brewing days. Huyghe is world-renowned for their head-spinning Delirium Tremens beer. Check it out, it's got a picture of a pink elephant on the bottle. In fact, my head is spinning thinking about this whole experience. I've decided from now on to skirt the easy targets; I'm truly living what I see as the dream of every young brewer. I've been able to speak with and entertain the idea of an apprenticeship with handfuls of the world's absolute best brewers. I'm not even sure what an easy target is, either; nearly every one of these world-class brewers has at least responded to my emails, most of them positively. Of course, I haven't yet set foot into any of their breweries, but patience is a virtue and it's still early. I'm living the dream in theory.

And, speaking of beer, here's what I've been able to try, given that I'm in the middle of nowhere. First, before I stepped onto a plane to leave the country, I took a road trip up to Canada and on the way stopped at an awesome beer bar in Portland, Maine, called Novare Res. There I found it: a beer from De Struise Brouwers. My first from the glorious brewery I might be working at in January. It was a luscious, opaque, creamy black brew called Pannepot. Lightly spiced with a chewy mouthfeel, it made me think for an instant I was rolling tropical fruits (papaya), figs, licorice, and dark chocolate around in my mouth. At the strength of wine, it warmed the soul without being too offensively alcoholic in taste. Wow. What a beer! In France I've tried to sample some local beers. La Nonnette from Brasserie Du Canardou was a lighter (in alcohol) dark beer, with spelt and buckwheat. It reminded me of a robust porter and was very well balanced with pleasant roasty notes and some grainy, spicy flavors from the alternative cereals. Belzebuth from Brasserie Grain D'Orge was a whopper of a beer; its 13% alcohol by volume was certainly apparent - a little too harsh for my tastes. It glowed a deep honey brass and possessed a firm light malt backbone, but it was just too strong and too sweet. Oh, I enjoyed it, don't get me wrong, but I would have brewed it a little differently. If I could brew.

Pannepot, from Struise

With my Couchsurfing buddies