Delirium Tremens

While taking a break from the mobs of crazy xmas shoppers last night, Mad Dog Johnny and I stopped in the Beer Bistro for a couple of pints. The Beer Bistro features a menu of some 200+ microbrews and select imports from all countries of the world, as well as representing all styles of beer. Upon arriving, we noticed a coaster depicting a pink elephant and advertising the subject of today's entry, a Belgian oddity called Delirium Tremens.

As we looked over the coaster, we found this quote from Stuart A. Kallen, who apparently ranked this one #1 in his "50 Greatest Beers in the World":

The name Delirium Tremens speaks for itself. Words simply cannot describe the intricate flavour of this beer - but that won't stop me from trying. The colour is golden and the head is creamy and light. The first sip warms my troat and belly like an ols woodstove does a log cabin. It's lightly hopped and surprisingly malty for such an airy, sunshiny beer. The aftertaste is fruity, almost cherry. A warming alcoholic glow works its way down the throat to the stomach. This beer must be sipped slowly so you can revel in each sweet drop. Delirium Tremens has a big body, a rich mouth feel and a long sweet aftertaste.

We ordered up two bottles and noticed that the "warming alcoholic glow" likely stems from this beer's rather heavy 8.7% abv. The beer is served with a narrow-mouthed glass that more resembles a brandy snifter than what would normally have beer served in, and is covered in pink elephants and the Delirium Tremens name. We poured out the beers and noticed the beer does indeed have a golden, if slightly cloudy appearance with a thick creamy head. There were no sea monkeys nor odd scent from the beer, so we tipped our glasses and drank.

The flavour is rather weak, with a strong alcoholic burn on the palate that follows the beer down your gullet and warms the stomach. Mad Dog Johnny remarked the beer tasted "mild, with a hint of ass." Charming. As we drank further, the "hint of ass" seemed to overpower the mild flavour and turned what seemed like an OK brew into another Belgian cup of misery. Halfway through his, Johnny made a face of disgust, and remarked "I don't like it" before chugging the rest down just to get rid of it. I drank the rest of mine at a normal pace, but really cannot say I enjoyed the experience much. It seemed to me that this was just another poor example of brewing from a country that seems to have an extremely overrated history of beer making altogether.

In closing, Mad Dog Johnny summed up his experience as thus:

"Upon completion of said Belsh beer, I found it undeniably justified to approach the bar with the empty bottle in my hand, and bust it over the head of the asspipe that had the nerve to serve it to me!"

Delirium Tremens Final Score:
Mad Dog Johnny - 2/10
Myself - 3/10

I should add that I initially scored this a 5/10, however as the flavour and alcohol taste grew on me, I reduced my feelings accordingly. Perhaps this review will finally put an end to the ridiculous claims that Belgium is some kind of epicentre of beer brewing. In my opinion, the only people who could make such an idiot statement are pretentious morons who really have no clue what good beer tastes like to begin with!

Westmalle Dubbel

Greetings! I apologize to my loyal followers who have been clamouring via email and comments for a new review. Instead of a lame excuse, I am simply going to state that the fall comprises of two things for me: hunting and football. While alcohol consumption is a part of both of these things, I have not had time to evaluate anything blog-worthy in some time. As such, there has not been an update in far too long. But fear not, I have not been incarcerated or done something silly like joining AA, so you can sit back, pour a drink of your choice and read today's offering from one of my least favourite beer-producing countries: Belgium!

Last week, a co-worker sent me an article on Vancouver's pub scene that appeared in the Toronto Star on 7 December 2009 (they are all aware of my particular penchant for alcohol, pubs and drinking in general). While the article was quite interesting, I recoiled in horror when I read this particular review for Stella's Tap & Tapas Bar:

You've woken with a Tom Waits voice and a head that feels like a melon on a toothpick. Welcome to the aftermath of a night out worshipping at the altar of the world's best ale-making nation. Belgian brews from Leffe and Stella Artois are on draft in a barroom lined with light, pilsner-hued wood. But it's the multi-page bottled list that'll do you in. Try fruity Mort Subite Kriek, coppery Chimay Rouge and dark X.O., a brooding, end-of-the-night beer made with cognac. And don't forget that other nutrient group: moules et frites is recommended but a cone of crispily addictive fries (served Euro-style with mayonnaise) is always a good idea.

As anyone who has followed this blog would know, many of the beers mentioned in this article have been reviewed here, and none of them were worth a return down memory lane (unless you want to get sick, that is). While the ever-popular Stella Artois is a bit of an exception to this rule, I cannot understand why anyone would pay a premium price for a beer that is quite literally the Molson Canadian of Belgium. To be perfectly honest, this bar sounds like it would be the perfect hell for me to spend eternity in (providing the Stella tap was always dry). After forwarding the description of Stella's Tap and Tapas Bar to Brian, he suggested doing yet another Belgian beer review to demonstrate once again that the Belgians know absolutely nothing about making beer.

I picked up this bottle of Westmalle Dubbel at my local LCBO. It comes in a funny 330 ml ring-necked bottle and has an ABV of 7%. Aside from the name, the entire label is written in Belgian, so no further information on this beer was available at the time of purchase. However, the Westmalle website had this to say:

Westmalle Dubbel is a dark, reddish-brown Trappist beer with a secondary fermentation in the bottle. The creamy head has the fragrance of special malt and leaves an attractive lace pattern in the glass. The flavour is rich and complex, herby and fruity with a fresh-bitter finish. It is a balanced quality beer with a soft feel in the mouth and a long, dry aftertaste. The Dubbel contains 7% alcohol.

Since 1856 the monks have also been brewing a dark Trappist beer along with their table beer. Since the recipe was modified in 1926, they have been brewing slightly heavier beer. This is the foundation of today’s Dubbel.

The 33 cl bottles are distributed individually, in baskets of six or in 24 bottle crates. The Westmalle Dubbel is also the only dark Trappist beer available on draught in some 300 selected hotels, restaurants and cafes, from kegs of 30 and 50 litres. Dubbel Trappist continues to ferment, making the draught version slightly sweeter than the bottled version.

Dubbel Trappist is also available in 75 cl bottles, in which the beer matures differently than the smaller bottles. You will particularly notice a more subtle aftertaste.

Back at Brian's, we chilled the beer and set out a few glasses for the tasting. I popped the cap and poured out the samples of what appeared a lot like homebrew to me. Michelle compared the colour of the beer to A&W root beer, while Brian stated the beer was the same colour as tar shampoo. There was no scent coming from the beer to mention, and with a healthy "Cheers!" we tipped our glasses and drank. There really was no up-front taste from this dark brew, however it left a very gross aftertaste in the back of the palate as it quite literally burned all the way down the gullet. Not a pleasant experience at all. Brian stated the taste was "mediciney" as Michelle commented that it was simply "awful". As I choked down the last of my sample, I declared this stuff was crap and after a taste of this swill, "you'd never drink it again!" Perhaps, this will finally put an end to the ridiculous myth that the Belgians make the best beer in the world. 95% of the beers I have tried from this country have been just god-awful. AVOID!

Westmalle Dubbel Final Score:
Michelle - 3/10
Brian - 3/10
Myself - 3/10

Brussels White

While picking up the Chimay Triple, I spotted this other Belgian beer. Now, as you all know I love to pick on the Belgians and the legions of pretentious fools who seem to think the best beers in the world come from it, I picked it up fully expecting another train wreck. As I took it out of the fridge, I looked at the bottle a little more closely:

Brussels White. Ingredients: water, malt, wheat, hops, yeast, coriander seed, orange peel.

What the hell is with the Belgian tradition of putting coriander seed in beer??? I have honestly never heard of this practice until reviewing Belgian beers, and quite frankly just don't get it. Coriander was the biggest turn off for Chimay Red and an involuntary shiver ran up my spine as I saw it was also contained in this brew. As for the orange peel, I won't even go into the stories I have heard about prison hooch and what they put in it, but I will say that orange peel was always mentioned as a primary ingredient. I suppose this was to give some logic to this product being called 'flavoured beer' as stated on the label. The bottle also had a second sticker on it proclaiming an abv of 5.5%, likely to coincide with LCBO guidelines for packaging.

I poured the cloudy brew into a glass an thankfully noticed a lack of sea monkeys within. There was no discernable scent off this brew to indicate the coriander or orange peel used in its manufacture. I tipped it back expecting the worst, but surprisingly it was actually rather mild with a creamy mouthfeel. There was no over-the-top coriander or citrus overtones, and it had a nice clean finish. While I can't say it would be a staple in my beer fridge, I could see myself enjoying a few of these on the patio this summer. All in all, the Belgians seemed to have got it right for a change. Worth a try.

Stella Artois

Here is one Belgian beer that I find I honestly enjoy. Stella is probably the most famous Belgian beer worldwide and is widely available on draught in bars all over Ontario. The self-described "deluxe beer of Belgium" has been brewed since 1366. Additionally, the label also states that "beer is to Belgium what wine is to France". Apparently, I figured that out fairly quickly on my own. It pours the same colour as typical pilsner, goes down smooth and finishes with little aftertaste. However, my one caveat is the green bottle. I have found that green bottled beers always seem to go 'skunked' faster than beer stored in brown bottles. This particular bottle had that funky Heineken taste to it, which I have never encountered with draught Stella (and wasn't that bad as to turn me off drinking it). My advice to anyone looking to juice this one up would be to buy cans or enjoy it at your local pub. While not a standout by any means, Stella Artois is an approachable beer that most people should enjoy.

My final verdict on Belgian beers hasn't changed much since my initial assessment. Belgium may be a hotspot of ancient brewing tradition, but their beers are not the greatest examples of brewing many make them out to be. I could see myself knocking back a few Hoegaarten on a patio in the summer, or a Stella Artois in the pub if the mood struck me but I don't think I'd reach for either as fast as I would a Schneider Weiss or Guinness. If anyone has any suggestions for other varieties of Belgian beers to review (or even better, a free sample!), feel free to contact me and we'll try to accomodate your requests in 2009. Happy drinking!

Leffe Brune

The second of the "Big Three" of Belgian brewing, Leffe Brune ('the authentic Belgian abbey beer') has been brewed since 1240. The rear lable states "the roasted barley malts give this Leffe Brune its sweet caramel yet bitter taste." However, judging by the wine glass supplied to drink it from, I suspected this was going to be another Chimay-style disaster.

The beer is very dark and at 6.5% abv, would be classified as a malt liquor if brewed in Canada. I poured it into the glass and drank. This beer is not for lightweights. The brew hit my tongue with an almost sickly sweetness that many dark beers possess, but followed up with an overwhelmingly bitter finish. This beer is actually not at all unlike the black malt homebrew my father and I used to make. I am certain that Goldings hops were used along with a little crystal malt in the initial boil. The taste profile is almost exactly as I remember our homebrew to be like, except that this was a lot less strong. I strongly suspect the heavy malt of this one will likely result in an early morning "Leffe moment" after a frantic run to the bathroom. It is not as bad as some other Belgian beers I have tried, but it definately is not the best. Perhaps Stella Artois will impress where others have failed.

Mort Subite Framboise

One might think I had enough of Belgian brews after the Chimay experience, however I couldn't resist this second example of brewer's madness. Once again, this beer is from Belgium and once again it is sealed in a wine-style bottle with a champagne-calibre cork. Taking my last experience into consideration, I did not reach for the magnum this time. From my knowledge based on past experiences with Belgian beers, I assumed that this one would probably not be very good. As it turns out, I was correct in my assumptions.

I twisted off the wire cage and popped the cork. It left the bottle with a lot less force than the Chimay cork did, and as such was not quite as exciting. As for the beer, Mort Subite Framboise pours a deep reddish colour and fizzes up a pink head not unlike Pink Champale. The scent is a mix of beer and raspberry, which is essentially what this stuff tastes like. It is very reminiscent of Wildberry wine coolers that were popular among girls in high school, but is far too sweet and fruity for my palate. Michelle tried some and remarked it was not that bad at all, however I doubt she would want to get drunk on it either. I would expect the taste of this to be popular with high school kids, but the import price would likely turn them away to cheaper alternatives for a Friday night party. All in all, it was simply another grande example why it might be advisable to think twice before buying a beer brewed in Belgium.

Chimay Red Belgian Beer

A while ago, I was talking with a coworker about beer when he asked me if I had ever tried Belgian beer before. After stating I had never had the inclination to try it, he remarked "you should. All the real beer drinkers are drinking it." Having no idea what qualifies one as a "real" beer drinker (I personally consume untold gallons of the stuff), I dismissed his comments as the symptom of yet another pretentious marketing trend. I have since tried Leffe, Hoegaarten and Stella Artois, and if this is what "real beer" consists of I'll pass. Stella was the only one worth drinking and is mediocre at best - certainly not worth the price they charge for it. The others, quite simply, are keif.

Which brings me to the subject of tonight's review. Chimay Red is a Belgian beer that has been the subject of yet another pretentious marketing trend. Made by Trappist Monks since 1862, the beer has actually been touted as "the world's best". Lofty words for a product made in a country that seems to know little more than France about the brewer's art. Evidence of this is the wine bottle the product is packaged in, complete with a champagne cage and cork to seal it with. Seriously, who sells beer in wine bottles besides the French? And why would a beer need a champagne-calibre stopper? We would soon find out.

I removed the wire cage from the cork and gave it a gentle push with my thumbs. The cork took off like a rocket, smashed into the wall and bounced back, nearly strinking me in the face. At least I had the foresight to point it away from the television. "Beer isn't supposed to do that," stated Brian as we got our second clue that Chimay is a little different from our average brew. Brian had selected a couple glasses and we poured the beer into them. The colour was a murky brown, probably due to the fact that Belgians are apparently too lazy to filter their beer. The only unfiltered beer style that is excusable is weissen, and this was far from weissen as you can get. The head was adequate, but Brian's glass foamed up way to much and had to be sinked and refilled. As he went about getting his refill, I noticed champagne-style bubbles in the murky darkness in the glass. I started to wonder if they actually use champagne yeast to make this stuff. One can never tell, but thus far I had not seen anything close to brewing genius from Belgium - especially when they seem to have confused their beer and wine.

Undaunted by this mysterious turn of events, we raised our glasses and drank. The strong flavour of this ale was not unexpected, as I had counted on a strong flavour based on its colour. However, the initial palate was immediately overcome by what tasted like strong coriander. Who in the hell puts coriander in beer? Brian was not at all impressed with the herbal finish, and stated he was not sure if it actually was coriander, but it certainly did not belong in a beer bottle. I concurred with this reasoning and concluded that based on my experience, the Belgians are utterly clueless when it comes to brewing. Chimay may be an interesting novelty, but I could not see myself drinking more than two bottles of this stuff without feeling violently ill. The only way Chimay Red could possibly be "the best beer in the world" is if the only other contenders was a skunky Grolsch and a piss-warm Schlitz. The flavour is simply too spicy to even be considered beer in my books.