Every year, the guys at De Molen organise a festival, highlighting some of the best breweries of Europe and thereabouts. Given my partiality to just about everything Menno&co undertake, it was only a matter of time and logistics ere I was able to attend in person.
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| Witness me attending |
It's been at least twenty years since I attended a beer festival, and things have changed a lot since then. Not only am I older (and -at least by a margin- wiser), but the beer scene has changed as well. It took a Dutch beer to convince me that Belgium is not the navel of the world's beer belly, and it's since become clear to me that borders and beer simply don't combine well. Borefts embraces and in fact embodies this idea, and brewers from all over the world (alright, Europe plus the UK then, if you insist) joyfully examplified the concept of beer as a borderless unifier.
My buddy Bert and myself arrived early, as we'd been informed the whole town of Bodegraven would be taken over by the festival, and parking space would be scarce and contested. We were in luck and scored a parking spot in the very shadow of the brewery's eponymous mill.
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| What else could they've called it? |
One advantage of arriving early to Borefts this year was actually being the first to whine to the
Närke guys about the absence of
Kaggen! Stormaktsporter. But Christopher kindly introduced us to the brewery's seasonal forest-inspired ales, pouring me a nice and balanced spruce beer called
Gran Sus (*). A nice and friendly beer, with a firm Munich malt body, which gently evolved into a subte and lingering herby aftertaste. Not at all piney, but very mellow and utterly hospitable. Beer Buddy Bert had a beer with moose grass called
Äljäjl, which did some pretty evocative things in the mouth, but was somewhat feebler of body, compared to the Gran Sus.
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| Good thing they didn't bring forest bears |
Looking back, I'm sorry I didn't get to try Närke's other two forest beers, as the brewery had clearly made an effort to evoke the Scandinavian wildlife, without chucking their beers full of composting humus. A nice introduction to a brewery whose renown has reached the point where it's almost ludicrous. Very curious as to what else these guys can do (wait for it, we've only been here ten minutes).
*) It speaks volumes for the Swedes that they have a word for the wind blowing through the treetops.
Onwards then, for across the street loomed the familiar shape of Dennis, patron saint of Beer Geeks the world over. He was manning De Struise Brouwers' trailer, an impressive array of (I didn't count but I daresay exaggeration is minimal) thirty taps. Dennis, being who he is, was singing beery praise to all and any with an ear to hear, and recommended the visiting Spaniards of
Laugar, hosting nearly a dozen beers at the far end of the trailer. "Give them your love" he said, and love them I did and still do.
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| Nine garage brews. Au lait! |
A jovial bunch of energetic beer enthusiasts, with an impressive array of beers on display. I had their ridiculously amazing
Hop Shock, a low-alcohol (3.9%) session IPA with oodles of flavour. Immensely drinkable, and from what I hear, the festival favourite of quite a few people who would have got insanely drunk had they chosen differently. Beer Buddy Bert tucked into their very juicy
Pumpkin Saison, a darker-than-usual, beefier-than-usual but again expertly crafted and insanely drinkable session beer.
There was no way for us to escape our orbit around Dennis' considerable gravity. The man helped me to a magnificent new version of De Struise's
Ypres, which was so drastically different from the bottled version I'd tasted earlier this year it might as well be a different brew.
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It's pronounce "wipers".
Even by Yprians.
Yperites.
People from Wipers. |
Dennis revealed the new version is matured on Bordeaux barrels instead of the (less impressive) Bourgogne barrels, and it turns out this makes a huge difference. Vinous and tart, the new Ypres easily stands up to the greatest of Flemish Old Brown ales, and should be an instant pickup for anyone even remotely interested in the style. Urbain, I salute you! Beer Buddy Bert delivered himself unto the tender mercies of Saint Dennis, and was poured a generous serving of Laugar's flagship brew: the
Aupa Tovarisch Oporto. Bert loves his black beers, and this one did not disappoint. Rich and complex, like any imperial stout should be, with a thick fat layer of port whipped liberally in between. Almost too much port, but in a good way: never did it become something spiked with boring grape juice, and the stately but tiresome flavours of over-aged ales were also pleasantly absent. Laugar are undertaking efforts to market this beer, so if you ever encounter them, don't hesitate. A brewery to watch, and for my part the pearl of the festival.
Burgers then, because the above was all just an excuse to be the first to reach the food stalls. Aperitifs safely slurped up, we tucked in for some grub, but I hasten to say we didn't waste too much time chewing, which is only proper when attending a beer festival.
A brief stroke of undecisiveness later found us queueing the taps of London's Finest:
The Kernel.
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| London baby! |
Toby himself did the honours, pouring me a very decent, but somewhat underwhelming and otherwise nameless
barrel aged bière de table, a cloudy, pale-white saison of 4.6% ABV. The barrels where subtly there, and truth be told: without them, the beer would have been disappointing. But what was there made it an enjoyable lesson in humility: thin without actually being dry, with a casual nod at tartness, and a whiff of french oak. Oh but in the late September sun, the beer did grow on me. Bert, who likes his blacks, had fallen in love with the
Imperial Brown Stout, aged in Glen Spey Whisky. And really, what can I say about this beer which can ever do it any justice? The Kernel's signature toffee/chocolate/coffee flavours are so perfectly paired off with the stately, slightly smoky balance of the scotch barrels, that the beer becomes instant organoleptic bliss. The only thing which could have made this beer any better (and I'm quoting Bert here) was a big fat cigar.
Time's awastin', so onward, to Jopen's array of brews. The cheerful ladies (wo)manning the taps were demonstrably proud of the brewery's achievements, and introduced us to one of the leading trends of the festival: gruit beer. Granted, the
Koyt isn't really a gruitbeer, but close enough. BeerBert went for the
Gouds Gruit which was really gruity. I don't normally pick up that typical herby gruit flavour, but in this beer it was pretty much all there was. Real nice if you like that stuff, but I'm a hop head myself, and I tire easily in such a herbal presence. I went for the
Gratzer/Grodziskie. Normally a heavily hopped, smokey beer style, this one was sour and tart, and a little watery. Another trend this year was light-bodied, low-ABV beers, and while this one was all that, I found it perhaps one of the least impressive I sampled. Somehow, I still haven't had a Jopen beer which blew me away, and while I gave the Gratzer every chance, it remained a bit underwhelming.
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| Unlike the location of their pub. |
Time for a short break, and some cheesy comestibles, whilst chatting to a couple of fellow countrymen, equally impressed by all the quality brews on display. BeerBert found himself accompanied by his first Italian brew:
Brew Fist's
X-Ray, an imperial porter. I thought it was pretty decent, but BeerBert's palate is becoming harder and harder to please, especially where black beers are concerned. I contented myself with nibbling the cheese, but quickly found myself facing
Amager's
Envy, which I was informed is the base beer which in pimped form became the Gluttony I had earlier this year.
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| Eat that, David Fincher. |
Amager is another one of those breweries who can do no wrong, it seems. BeerBert, who likes his blacks (*) obviously went for the
Hr. Fredriksen Nieport, another splendidly barrel aged imperial stout. Maybe my tastebuds were getting tired but I found drastically different from Laugar's port-based Aupa Tovarisch, and a bit heavier. A hint of tobacco perhaps.
*) did I mention Bert likes his blacks already? He sneaked off for a sip of De Struise Brouwers' O.N.E. while I wasn't watching.
Off our lazy asses, and back into the awning's shade, to check out what
Thornbridge was up to. Ever since they introduced me to British ales when I was in London, I've had my eye on them, but they're hard to find in Belgium, besides which UK ales (especially Thornbridge's) tend to underwhelm when bottled and compared to casked (*)
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*) casked beer is really a different product from bottled, kegged or canned beer.
A bit like soft cheese vs hard cheese.
Only different and without cheese. |
Thornbridge brought their big and stately
Bracia, barrel aged on bourbon. Guess when BeerBert stopped reading the menu? Not a stout but a strong dark ale, a bit like a quadrupel or a wee heavy. Bert wasn't too impressed and I concur, with reservations I'll line up a bit further on. For myself, I went for the Rum-aged
Kacho porter, a wonderfully subtle brew which to me confirms Thornbridge's outstanding reputation. The rum brought wonderful flavours of cane sugar to the brew, as well as slight boozy tingle. A bit on the thinnish side, but I'm blaming that sip of Bracia I took earlier. For here's the snag with Thornbrigde as I've experienced them so far: they brew absurdly subtle brews. The Jaipur I remember from two years ago, and the Bracia, as well as the Kacho; all are stately but delicate brews, easily overshadowed in the presence of boozily barreled USA-inspired beers of today. I understand BeerBert's reservations towards the Bracia, especially in the light of several thick black impy stouts already savoured earlier. For my part, I was charmed by the Kacho, which stood out precisely because it wasn't a big ass brew. But on a festival like Borefts, it's easy to dismiss Thornbridge's elegance in favour of more bold and brazen brews.
Still working our way across the length of the festival's main venue, we stopped at
Toccalmatto rig
, where the Italians had set up a nice display of quaint-looking bottles. From what I've seen of Italian brewing, I gather presentation is not just the icing on the cake but part and parcel of the beer itself. Toccalmatto took this perhaps a step too far: a beautifully presented
Russian Imperial Stout (Wild), aged on red Sagrantino barrels and decanted like a treasured wine, failed to impress either Be(e)rt or myself. It was a beautifully aged beer, no question, but the typical port-and-madeira flavours of aged beer got in the way with what I've come to expect from an impy stout. Similarly, their nameless
Göse didn't really do much, and was a missed opportunity to put the brewery's stamp on the festival. If you're bringing a salty beer to Borefts, you better make sure it stands out, or people will end up disappointed.
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| But what a spectacularly classy presentation it is! |
Heading back across the street to the brew house, I tried
Närke's 5 o'clock Special: a thick and immensely sweet honey Braggot. Impressive, but not my kind of beer: shitloads of honey which acted like a fire blanket on top of the booze underneath. Braggots were another notable presence on the festival by the way, with many brewers bringing along their take on honey-and-herb beers. Again: not a style I'm particularly fond of, but it's always nice to see old traditions rise up from the past.
We chatted to a visiting Spanish couple with whom I forged some beer-swapping plans to be executed in the near future (*).
*) the plans. Not the Spanish couple. Just thought I'd clear that up. More on those plans later, as they reach fruition.
Meanwhile, we sipped some more Spanish beer, this time by
Napar Bier, whose name is growing every day, even outside of Spain.
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| Naturally. |
I had the
Back in Black IPA, a robust, roasty chunk of solid brewing skill, while BeerBert hopped across the border to France to sample
Brasserie du Mont Salève's
Imperial Stout, which finally pierced the myth that French don't know jack shit about beer. Mont Salève is a brewery to watch, and I'm very curious as to what else they can do.
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Giant twenties lady derails cable car.
Read all aBOUT it! |
I think at some point BeerBert went back to The Kernel for refill of his festival favourite, the Imperial Brown Stout because when I got back from an urgent number one, he was chatting up brewer Evin. Turns out the Kernel don't really have many secrets, and base many of their beers on old 19th century recipes. Making mental notes to do some research of my own, we bid the Kernel goodbye and headed off for some local Chinese food to make a splash in our beer-laden bellies. Irony being what it is, we found a great beer store selling (almost) only Dutch beers, literally within a hundred paces of the Molen's own beer-emporium. We grabbed a few things to try back home, found and devoured some Chinese (*) and headed back to the festival for one last glass.
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*) no denizens of the People's Republic of China were harmed in the process described above
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The festival ended with a shared glass of
De Molen's
Russian Imperial Stout, aged in used
Balsamico barrels. Yes, that's another novelty which others are picking up too: aging beer in non-boozy barrels. I wonder what's next. Beer in sauerkraut jugs? Natto-infused Imperial Double Wheat?
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| This, only in a fancy glass. |
A quick stop at the beer store situated in the old mill proper, where agonising choices were made but some great great beers were purchased, and off we were, on the long and endless road home.
This was our first time at Borefts, and a fun time it was. Splendid weather, jovial guest and hosts, plenty of time to chat with people and strike up new friendships. I'm definitely going back.
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| Optimism only works if there's anything left in the glass though. |
Until then
Greetz
Jo
