Exit by the Abbey

Finishing up this week of posts from east Flanders with a bit of history. I, with my fellow Brussels Beer Challenge judges, found myself at Merksplas-Kolonie on a dreary Monday afternoon. Founded in the early 19th century, this was a sort-of workhouse, residential and employment facility for the destitute. Under Belgian law at this time, and indeed up until the early 1990s when the EU put a stop to it, it was possible for vagrants, the homeless, and anyone without a "proper" place in society to be committed to rural colonies like this and put to work. Following its decommissioning (although there is still a working detention facility on-site) this one has been turned into a visitors' centre, restaurant and event venue, with a hotel in development in the stables.

And of course there's a house beer brand: Vagebond. The core beer is a tripel called Vageblond but we didn't get to try the base one, starting instead on Vageblond Jenever, a version that's been aged in a barrel previously used for the local gin. Maybe it's for the best that we didn't taste the ordinary tripel, as it seems from this that it's very plain, lacking the spice and honey topnotes of good examples. With the barrel, however, you do get a solid dose of boozy herbs, though it's clean tasting as well, and not at all gimmicky.

A somewhat less ambitious twist comes with Vageblond Tripel Primeur. Like the original, this is 8% ABV, the alcohol unaffected by the addition of extra Target hops. I wouldn't have put that down as an especially fruity variety, but there's a huge amount of fruit on display here, all peaches and lychee, set on a smooth and creamy body. It's very dessertish -- perhaps a little too sweet to drink easily, but very pleasant to sip with cheese, I imagine.

And there's a quadrupel as well, the beast that is Vagebruin, at 10.5% ABV. It's a lovely mahogany colour, the flavour starting on a dry cereal grain with more than a hint of roast. I didn't get much by way of fruity Belgian esters, so no plum or raisin, only a mild dark-chocolate bitterness. Though the strength is very apparent from its density and a certain amount of boozy heat, the flavour otherwise doesn't show much complexity. Fine but plain is the verdict. One would expect more from a quadrupel.

Earlier that day, the lunchtime beer had been Affligem's Postel Dubbel. It's a very retro-looking label, but not one I recall seeing before. It's 7% ABV and here we have the features which were sorely missed in the quadrupel. There's chocolate and toasted grains as well, but also lots of delicious dark fruit: black cherry, prune and raisin, finishing on an exotic tang of tamarind. It's not wildly different from other Belgian breweries' quality dubbels, but does show that it's still possible to impress with one of these.

The other grand institution we visited was Corsendonk Abbey. Corsendonk is now a large hospitality company with several hotels in the area, including this one. Despite it also being a ubiquitous beer brand, there's no history of brewing on the site, and the beer all comes from faraway Wallonia.

Corsendonk Blond is a perfectly palatable Belgian blonde ale, almost as easy to drink as a lager, especially when cold on draught. But there's a lovely lacing of honey to add body and give the flavour at least some modicum of character. While far from exciting, it's clean and accessible, while also unmistakably Belgian.

The brewery had featured at the opening reception, where they were pouring another blonde ale, called Tempelier. At 7.5% ABV, it's stronger than most of these are, heading for the weight of a tripel. And you can really taste the difference here, with a heat you don't get from 6% ABV blondes, or even squeaky-clean Duvel. The flavour is largely bready -- wholesome, but a bit boring -- with some added sweet relish or marmalade shred. It's unexciting but perfectly acceptable for the specs.

There's also Corsendonk Blanche, their witbier. The trick with reviewing these is to find the point of difference with the style's archetypes, and then decide if they're an improvement or not. This is a definite not as the recipe's peculiarity appears to be ramping up the coriander to beyond acceptable levels. The result is intensely herbal, like a medicine cabinet, with a background soapy unpleasantness. It's the sort of thing one's palate probably gets used to when drinking more than a sample, but I didn't deem it worth the effort.

Back at Corsendonk Abbey, they were serving lunch. With that came a 75cl bottle of what appears to be a new limited series. Grand Hops: Mistral d'Alsace was the name, and presumably Mistral is the single hop. It's an IPA and is 6.9% ABV. For all that, it's light-bodied and a little unBelgian. The flavour is remarkably complex for a single-hopper, loading in summer flowers to begin, then a punchy lemon zest before finishing on raspberry and cherry. It's lots of fun and very interesting to explore. It's always good to see a venerable old brewery trying something like this, and even better when it results in something delicious.

Today's top Belgian travel tip is that if you have a few hours before you need to be at the airport, try Mechelen. It's a typically picturesque Flemish city and only a short hop to the airport by train. I had an hour spare which was just enough to get to the main square, drink a beer and come back for the train.

I drank it in a poky pub hard by the cathedral called De Floeren Aap: Deep Terra double IPA, a surprise appearance from New York's Drowned Lands brewery, in a venue with an otherwise unremarkable beer offer. It's completely opaque, 8.2% ABV, and has a pungent, bitter, garlic aroma. I expected savoury soup but it does an abrupt and welcome about-face on tasting, showing lots of smooth orange juice and a bite of peach skin. It's heavy, but still has plenty of sparkle, so while it feels as strong as it is, it remains drinkable, if a tiny bit hot.

Our quest ends here. A huge thanks to the Brussels Beer Challenge team for inviting me over and for the fascinating social programme. Let's do it again some time.