Not dead yet

Reference and review books about beer have never interested me. Why would I want to read someone else's opinions about beers, most of which I'll never get to drink? That used to be my position on beer blogs too, back before I realised that there was a whole interactive side to blogging which makes it much more than a solitary activity. And I don't have to spend my beer money on blogs. But I still have no intention of building up a library of beer reference books -- that's knowledge I'd prefer to pick up first hand.

However, a well-meaning family member bought me a copy of Roger Protz's 300 Beers To Try Before You Die for Christmas. There was a time when I feared that if I ever owned this book I'd be consumed by trying to tick as many of the entries as I could, but I'm not bothered now. I haven't even counted how many of the 300 I've tasted. I have had a damn good flick through it though. One of the many I've never had jumped out at me as an odd inclusion: Liefmans Oud Bruin.

Sure, Liefmans are a very well respected Belgian brewery (now owned by Duvel Mortgaat), but oud bruin? The nearly-non-alcoholic Dutch beer, typically packed with saccharine and which always seems to come with a confused look and an explanation of what it is every time I ask a Dutch waitress to bring me one -- something I do quite often as I really rather like it, especially Heineken's. How could an oud bruin, no matter who brewed it, be a classic? This had been troubling me through January, and when I saw a bottle on sale in Beer Mania I leapt on it.

'Course, if I'd paid attention to the details given by Roger it would have all started making sense a bit sooner. Instead of the typical sub-3% ABV, Liefmans Oud Bruin is a whopping 5%: rocket fuel! It pours thinner and much fizzier than any other oud bruin, and the first taste confirmed what I'd thought: it's not really oud bruin at all. Daft Belgians.

On top of the light and fizzy body there's a distinct tangy -- almost vinegary -- sourness strongly reminiscent of Flemish red ales like Rodenbach. At the back there's an earthy, almost brett-like, character which is barely discernable.

I feel a bit guilty now for scoffing at Nørrebro's HP-sauce-like Oud Bruin, because it's quite plainly (now) an attempt to emulate this, the pair seemingly representative of a sub-genre of oud bruin I was hitherto unaware of. Time I stopped being surprised when I encounter them. Though my preference is still for the low-strength treacly sugar-bombs, weirdo that I am. But hey, it's not like I'm writing a book.

Dutch gold

I left you on a Saturday evening in Amsterdam and I was heading out for 't Arendsnest. Now, Amsterdam has more than its fair share of lovely pubs with great beer lists, but this upstairs bar on Herengracht is my new favourite. Rather than a primarily-Belgian beer list, everything here is Dutch. There's pretty much the full range, from bottles of Grolsch and Bavaria all the way up to whatever's currently good from De Prael or De Molen.

It was with the latter I started: Menno's Rasputin imperial stout. The super-smooth creamy texture is the first thing that struck me here. It makes it very easy to drink, despite the big sticky malty flavours and an intense bitterness totally unlike the acidic hopping of American versions of the style. Herself opted for one that Wildeman had been out of on Thursday: the delightfully-named Skuumkoppe by Texelse. I found this orange wheatbeer quite vapid and dull. It starts with a big sugary flavour but follows it with absolutely nothing. It's always a tragedy when the name provides more entertainment than the beer.

Of necessity, dinner was next, then straight back to the pub. My next was another Dutch stout: Van Vollenhoven Extra. You can read more about the history of this one, and how lucky I was to get hold of it, here. Under the fluffy white head is an easy-going beer with the emphasis on sweet maltiness and perhaps a touch of saccharine. Even though it's a full 7% it tastes much lighter. Simple yet satisfying.

We couldn't leave without trying the house beer, Herengracht 90 Blond. Expecting something plain and made on the cheap -- often the way with contract-brewed house beers -- what poured forth was a spicy, floral, blossomy cloudy orange beer, much more reminiscent of a saison than your bog-standard blonde ale.

It was heart-breaking to have to call it a night, but 't Arendsnest has given me a new reason to visit Amsterdam and I will be back at the next opportunity. The main reason I have for visiting Amsterdam is the beer shopping, and before bed I fitted in another couple from the Cracked Kettle. The proprietor said he was having trouble shifting Mikkeller Jackie Brown, which surprised me. My bottle had just passed its expiry date, but it was still a pretty good beer. Highly complex, it starts with a sweet café crème nose but follows with a surprisingly bitter yeasty flavour before the roasted coffee kicks in leading to a very slight sweetness on the outside edge. Phew. All this happens on a soft velvety mouthfeel which makes it less work to drink than to write about. Shame on you, Cracked Kettle customers.

Last beer of the evening was the final American of the trip, and one which seems to be on special offer all over Amsterdam: Left Hand Milk Stout. I have a certain fondness for this beer. There's really not much to it, but what's there is enjoyable: a slick milky texture, a tiny touch of bitter coffee and we're done. Better not to have a thought-provoking beer at bedtime, right?

After a bit of proper tourism (something we do occasionally, believe it or not) Sunday's drinking started in De Beiaard again. In random pinstick mode, I went for Deugniet, a strong, pale blond ale with a slightly sharp dry greenness to it -- like celery, observed Mrs Beer Nut. I quite liked it, being somewhere between a spicy blonde ale and a low-key tripel. Meanwhile, m'lady was on Dikke Mathile, choosing once more on the silly name factor. This has orange blossom on the nose and a marvellous tannic quality, similar to some of my favourite English bitters, though stronger and sweeter.

We were on our way to Ron's place where we had an invitation to share some of the goodies in his cellar. That's not the kind of invitation one turns down. So, bearing a handful of bottles of decent Irish stout (but no vodka), we arrived in to meet Ron, Dolores and the real stars of Ron's blog, Andrew and Lexie. Among the delights produced from the bowels of Patto Mansions was a tiny nip bottle of Courage Russian Imperial Stout, bottled in 1992. Fascinating it was too -- under a vinous, almost vinegary, nose, there's triple-espresso thick roasted coffee notes. A very civilised after-dinner sipping beer.

Andrew accompanied us to the local boozer, where La Chouffe and jenever were the order of the evening. I did take a bit of ticking time to try Brigand -- yet another strong blonde and one I quite enjoyed, being easy-going, smooth and fruity.

And so, clutching a couple of bottles of Ron's Whitbread recreations, we took our leave. Slightly pissed, it has to be said. And that was nearly it for the trip, though Ron's influence didn't end after we escaped his clutches. Intrigued by his review of Café Krom, we made a point of checking it out before leaving for Schiphol. There in the art deco splendour my last new beer was a Grolsch Oud Bruin. Unfortunately I still haven't found one of these to beat Heineken's. Grolsch's is rather bland. None of the unpleasant big saccharine notes of some oud bruins, but not a whole lot else, sadly.

Final stop before the airport train was De Bierkoning for a last couple of beery bits and pieces, and that was our lot. Thanks again for your very generous hospitality, Ron.

Roll on Copenhagen...

Hymn to the Brown Café

I'm just back from a few days in the Netherlands, reacquainting myself with their fantastic brown café bars and the endless variety of Low Countries beer on offer.

This post is partly to introduce some new beers, but also to put in a proper entry on ones I haven't mentioned. Corsendonk Pater, for instance, is a fairly common abbey beer, deep brown with a slightly odd bittersweet flavour. St. Feuillien Brune is lighter, drier and fizzier, almost geuze-like, despite a full 7.5% alcohol and the characteristic caramel sweetness of this kind of ale. Affligem Dubbel, in my opinion, is a step down: a promising spicy foretaste is followed up with nothing much, just a dryness lacking any fruit flavour or the warmth of a well-rounded ale. Most disappointing of the abbey beers, however, was Maredsous 6: an amber ale which, by Belgian standards, is almost tasteless.

Last summer I visited De Halve Maan in Bruges and was surprised that they weren't selling Straffe Hendrik. I found it in Delft, however, featuring the half moon on the label but no mention of the brewery: the beer is made elsewhere by Liefman's. Straffe Hendrik is a fizzy, orange-coloured ale, fairly dry, but with fruity aromatic overtones. La Chouffe is actually made in a small brewery and is another golden ale. It's tasty but unchallenging at first, gradually building a peppery aftertaste as it warms.

St. Louis Kriek was a new one on me and quite a pleasant find. It's one of the lighter krieks, akin to Timmerman's, with a sweet kirsch-like aroma. Conversely, I knew Hoegaarden's winter beer Verboten Vrucht from old, but hadn't tasted it in years. I was a little disappointed, finding the taste of dried fruit a touch off-putting, especially since it lacked the roundness one would expect with a matured beer like this. Instead, it finishes up rather sharp.

On the subject of Belgian giants, I bought a Palm just to try it for the first time in ages. It's extremely ubiquitous in Belgium and the Netherlands and is really quite good. It's a frothy amber light ale (though at 5.2% not exactly light by most ale standards) and carries a fairly pleasant sugary aftertaste. It's not a beer that requires concentration, but it's well put together all the same. Palm also make a stronger version called Royale - the same colour but a richer sweeter, smoother taste. Perhaps a little too refined, in fact.

One of the big local breweries in the south Netherlands is Gulpener. They make a strong but easy-drinking superlager called Gladiator which has the same syrupy taste as most of this sort. Korenwolf (the name means "hamster", apparently) is their wheat beer, and rather better. It has a good nose and good spice, but finishes rather dry - not as dry as the French like it, but a fair bit drier than the Belgian witbier norm.

One thing I was really looking forward to on the trip was some oud bruin. I don't know what the target market is for this quintessential Dutch beer-style: oud bruins are very low in alcohol, deep brown in colour and candy-caramel-sweet. Brand Oud Bruin is rather poor, tasting of saccharine in spades, but slightly redeemed by a subtle smoke flavour. Heineken Oud Bruin is streets ahead: incredibly smooth and easy-drinking. I just wish it came in bottles bigger than 30cl.