Belgians abroad

The influence of Belgium on the brewing world spreads far and wide. I noticed this on opening my beer fridge recently. Here are three beers from three different countries, all taking their cue from Belgian tradition.

The first is, purportedly, a Kriek, but I had my suspicions from the outset. This example, from Lithuania's Volfas Engelmann, claims to be "Belgian style" but is only 4% ABV and I wasn't expecting much wild character, if any. I wasn't surprised to find that it's pink, nor that it is, indeed, very very sweet. It differs from syrupy Belgian kriek by having a realer cherry flavour: there's a hint of the genuine flesh of the black cherry here. The label tells us this is down to the 10% real cherry juice it includes. Beyond that, it has pretty much nothing else going on in it. There's not even a pretence of sourness. I have a strong tolerance for this sort of daftly sweet beer, and it didn't take me long to chug through a pint of it. I can't say it made me think of Belgium, however.

From the odd to the downright strange. Colorado's Left Hand has long made bottled nitrogenated beer its whole thing, and is best known for the milk stout to which it gave this treatment. Would it work with a witbier? I can't believe anyone even asked. The other specs of Belgian White Nitro are pretty accurate, at 4.8% ABV and brewed with coriander and orange peel. The nitro gimmick works well for the appearance, and you get a thick and lasting head, although it looks a bit wrong sitting over a perfectly clear witbier. I didn't realise that high carbonation is an intrinsic part of the style's charm, but the flatness of this one brought it home. It feels gloopy and cloying, like smoothflow English bitter, lacking any palate-scrubbing condition and accentuating the malt sweetness. The coriander feels clumsily tacked on to this, more a chemical pollutant than a herbal seasoning. It looks good, but it doesn't work. There is nothing to be gained from nitrogenating witbier, however one does it.

We return home to Dublin for the final round: Belgian Tripel from Hope, number 35 in its Limited Edition series, for anyone counting. The first thing to note is that it has very poor head retention, and the second that my Westmalle chalice holds a full 44cl. It's darker than tripel typically is, and it's sweeter too, giving a strong impression of boiled sweets and candied citrus peel. I like a bit of spice in a tripel, and there's none of that on offer here. After the sugary foretaste it all just tails off, with a faint vegetal bitterness but nothing much else. Strong Belgian-style beer should be bold yet subtle, and this manages neither, tasting like simple alcoholic barley water, lacking finesse.

The complexity of their beer is what makes Belgium distinct, and it's essential to get that right when trying to copy it. Many's a brewer goes to the extreme, resulting in beer that's too hot or too cloying. These ones all have the opposite problem: they've got the basics right, but are missing the extra spark which seems to come naturally to Belgian brewers but is elusive elsewhere.