To travel in hope

Wrapping up this week's posts from eastern France, a few final odds, sods and waybeers.

Did you know that France's national brewing museum is at Saint Nicolas de Port, just outside Nancy? It's housed in two fabulously preserved buildings which were once the brewhouse and offices of Grands Brasseries de Saint Nicolas. Not much brewing happens here now, but there is still a beer bearing the Saint Nicolas name and possibly even based on an old recipe, that's sold in the museum. It's called Bière de Saint Nicolas, brewed by Les Brasseurs de Lorraine not far away.

No style is given but I guess it's an ambrée, being a clear copper colour with plenty of foam on top. There's a lot of ester in the flavour, giving it a strongly Belgian vibe. In contrast it has a very potent and unsubtle bitterness. So it's not bland, but I sense it's intended as an old-fashioned rough and ready paysans' drink, one that doesn't care about your refined city tastes. Not exciting, but not meant to be.

We left Nancy on a Sunday morning by train. I had stopped by Carrefour on the way, to pick up some shareable train beers. I didn't know that supermarket bière de garde even existed. The brewery, Castelain, almost doesn't seem to want to claim it, its label emphasising the brand Reflets de France Bière de Garde. Sadly I'll need to look further if I want quality bière de garde in the mass market. This turned out to be extremely bland, offering nothing you wouldn't get from a basic blonde ale. It's easy drinking for 6% ABV, but that's beside the point, even on a train.

Next was La Goudale IPA, from the generally-reliable producer of mass-market industrial farmhouse beer. I wasn't expecting much but got a fabulous bouquet of floral flavours mixed with aromatic oils, herbs and spices. It was so different and yet... familiar. A couple of mouthfuls in I realised that it tasted identical to the IPA under the Abbey de Vauclair label produced by La Goudale for Lidl. I liked that one, and was happy to see it again. It may not be for everyone but I really enjoyed the boldness of it.

The jumping-off point was Luxembourg, and our little band had a couple of hours to get a beer or two in at the Grand Duchy's finest hostelries. I had last been here in 2021, a highlight of which had been Craft Corner. I didn't know if it was still open so over the railway line we went to find out.

It's still open, and the blackboard beer menu is still hanging up by the door. But it has been wiped clean. Nothing else has changed, it's just no longer a speciality beer bar. The main draw is now the AB InBev macrolager, Diekirch. Three pints of Diekirch, then. It's not the worst of them, and even has a little hint of golden syrup Czech-style malt quality. But the off-flavours are there too -- a stale-hop mustiness and growing diacetyl notes as it warms. It's just about drinkable but another was unnecessary.

Crossing over to the old city, we found our way to The Tube, the sort-of English theme pub near the Ducal palace. It's owned by the Clausel brewery now, and features their beers heavily. I started on Clausel IPA. This is very much in the old school, beginning with a strong caramel sweetness in the foretaste. It's been a while, but I still knew to expect the sudden onslaught of pine and grapefruit, and it didn't disappoint. I'm sure I could tell this from Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in a side-by-side tasting, but it had a lot in common. And that's a good thing.

Round two brought three different bottled beers in TeKu glasses. Mine was the house beer, 5.2% ABV and starkly named The Tube. It's a hemp beer, from Clausel, of course, and is very nicely done. Hemp beers are all about the white pepper flavour and this has that. There's a slight funky fuzz, but it complements the herb well, and the whole is clean, drinkable yet very interesting.

On the left, Gezwickelten, Clausel's unfiltered lager. This is much less interesting, though broadly on style. It's quite plain and grainy for the most part, and where there's character it's an unwelcome fruity Belgian note. 5.2% ABV is high for what it is, and you don't get anything worthwhile for that. It's passable but the Germans do this kind of thing much better.

Most promising of the set is Black Munster, a 5.5% ABV dark ale. You get a good bit of flavour for that, with unctuous burnt treacle at the top. From here it becomes even bitterer while staying very clean and quite lagerish. At first I was thinking schwarzbier, but the taste builds in intensity so much that it's actually more like a Baltic porter, aniseed and all, by the end. It's beautiful either way.

To the airport, and Reuben was kind enough to buy me a Battin Fruitée at the airport's gate bar. I'm guessing this pink abomination is based on their lager. A wheat beer tends to give you a soft base over which to slather the fruit syrup; this, on the other hand, is janglingly sweet. Only a mild tannic dryness stops it from being downright oppressive. Cherry, blackberry and plum are depicted on the label but it tastes like nothing more complex than raspberry, and that in syrup form. Take it from a fan of sweet fruit beers that this one is best avoided.

Our final beer is actually one I drank on the way over. Simon x LuxAir Pils is all you need to know: the brewery, the airline it's made for, and the style. There's a series of these and this is the summer 2023 iteration. And it's far better than an aeroplane pils needs to be. It looks distressingly pale and Bud-like, and there's lots of fizz, but maybe that's just because of the low cabin pressure. But there's a decent malt weight and a wholesome seedcake flavour, plus a proper north German hop bite of spinach and green cabbage leaf. No notes. I hope the recipe is revived some future summer.

So ended the French excursion. I think there's some interesting stuff to be explored in eastern France via Luxembourg, and Metz in particular, where I had a quick train change. Banked for later.