A Belgian Beer Pilgrimmage

Some say this road is paved with gold...

Nestled in the farmlands of West Flanders, not far from the French border, is the monastery of St. Sixtus.  It is, essentially, in the middle of nowhere (at least, to the extent that any place in Belgium can be in the middle of nowhere).  The nearest town, Poperinge, is about four miles away, which makes either for a pleasant bike ride, or for a lengthy walk though the Flemish countryside.(1)

Most people (especially in North America) have never heard of the monastery of St. Sixtus.  Among those who fancy themselves beer connoisseurs, however, it's famous, because it's here that brothers of the Trappist order brew the fabled Westvleteren XII.  Not only is this often described as one of the best beers in the world, it's also notoriously difficult to come by:  although the monks occasionally release gift sets for distribution, for the most part the only way to get hold of this delicious elixir is to phone and reserve a crate for pickup, or to visit the monastery's café and gift shop, where they serve it by the bottle (along with other beers in their lineup), and -- if you're very lucky, and if it's in season -- sometimes sell it by the six-pack.(2)

So it was that I found myself taking a trip from Ghent to the monastery on a blustery Monday in May.  In the face of a wind that gusted at times up to about 20 miles an hour, I made the four-mile trek from the train station in Poperinge through farmland rippling with green cereal crops, through hop fields in which young vines were just beginning to creep up their strings, and through the earthy scent of fresh manure wafting over the countryside.

Young hop vines just beginning to crawl their way up the lines

My reward, of course, was the opportunity to try some Westvleteren beer at in de Vrede, the café attached to the monastery.  And, having legged out four miles in the face of that nasty wind in only a little over an hour, I was definitely thirsty.  I settled down for some lunch — a ham tartine, followed by ice cream made from some of the monastery’s beer — and sampled the three fine beverages they had on offer, all conditioned naturally in the bottle.  The first was the Westvleteren Blonde (5.8% abv), the second was the Westvleteren VIII (a traditional dubbel, 8% abv), and the third was the pièce de resistance, the XII itself — a dark, luscious quadrupel, weighing in at 10.2% abv.

Two-fisting, Westvleteren style.  On the left, the VIII; on the right, a delicious goblet of beer-flavoured ice cream.

The blonde and the VIII are both fine beers in their own right, although to my taste there isn’t much that really makes them stand out above the offerings of some of the other Trappist breweries in Belgium.  The Blonde was straw-coloured and hazy, with an aroma of grainy malt and fresh yeast; the taste essentially followed the nose, although it did have a little bit of honey-like sweetness and some citrus on the palate, balanced by a moderately bitter and dry finish.  The VIII, like most dubbels, was a dark brown beer with ruby highlights, an aroma dominated by dark sugar and toffee, and a strong malty flavour layered with hints of toffee, some kind of fruit, and finished off with a good, balancing bitterness.  Both were delicious, but of course so are comparable beers like Orval and Westmalle’s Dubbel, which are much easier to find than the Westvleteren beers.

The Holy Grail

The XII, though, really is in a different class altogether.  I’ve tasted it once before, thanks to a friend who snatched up one of the gift packs that were released into the US market last year, and who was generous enough to bring a bottle over to my place one Sunday morning for brunch (thanks Paul!).  That bottle had aged a bit — from what I recall, the flavour was almost entirely malt-driven, with hints of chocolate and dates, and a tiny bit of roast character.  The bottle I drank today was much fresher, and the character of the beer was quite a bit different.  The underlying malt character of the older sample was still there, if not as intense, but it was accented by a lot of interesting yeasty phenolics and a nice, lingering bitterness.  In short:  yum.  I’m not sure that it’s necessarily the best beer in the world, but it was definitely worth a total of three hours on the train and a round-trip hike of eight miles.

As a final bonus, the gift shop today just happened to be selling six-packs of the XII.  I arrived early enough to buy the first pack on the pallet, and I’m glad that I did, because by the time I left the shop at 1pm they were virtually all gone.  Now the challenge is to get my bottles back across the Atlantic in one piece!

The loot.

Notes:

(1)  Renting a bike can be problematic, depending on what day you choose to visit.  The main rental place is the Belfort hotel, but the office is typically closed on Sundays and Mondays.

(2)  There is a rather vigorous black-market trade in bottles of Westvleteren XII, which you will sometimes find in certain pubs in Bruges or even Ghent, albeit at a rather generous markup.