Beer Festivals: Pinnacles of Beer Culture or Elitarian Geek Fests?

Warning. The below is a rant, disguised as a blog entry.

I blame my buddy Joan, who's running a blog in Spanish and in English just to prove the old Manuel-stereotype dead wrong, where he is currently running an article for The Session aka Beer Blogging Friday.

"I know nothi..."
Oh.
Wait.
Wrong Manuel.

Joan's topic is Festivals: Geek Gathering or Beer Dissemination? Says it all, I guess, so let's get this baby squealin' already.

-----------------------------------------DISCLAIMER----------------------------------------------

Throughout this article, I'll be grossly generalising the entire and diverse Belgian population by referring to them as "most Belgians", by which I mean "most Belgians who've never had any non-Belgian beer besides Corona and Heineken and whose idea of an adventurous beer is something like Kasteel Hoppy". 
For the remainder of this article, please interpret the term most Belgians with the same sense of benevolent caricaturisation you'd reserve for "most men", "most women" and "most-if-not-all two-dimensional polygons except most rhombi. Rhombuses. Diamonds.".

-------------------------------------DONE DISCLAIMING----------------------------------------

Beer festivals in Belgium are an odd afair, and like so many beery things, Belgians are surprisingly ambivalent about them. 

Sorta.

On one hand, most Belgians think of their country as the navel of the world where beer's concerned. Any argument about beer can easily be won-slash-deadended by slamming your empty glass onto the table and belching "Belgium's got the best beer in the world!" into your opponent's face. Especially if he's not, himself, a Belgian.

On the other hand, most Belgians treat beer with callous indifference, as if it were a trivial commodity, like potatoes, rice, and electric power.

Until a turn of events makes it relevant.

Most Belgians' opinion about beer is an uneasy truce between "don't care 'cause I never paused to come up with one" and "I'm culturally compelled to patriotism here so yay Belgium and yay beer and oooh what a lovely navel I have" with a tendency to lean more toward the latter than any individual's personal experience would warrant.
Beer, it seems to me, is so ubiquitous in Belgium that it is taken very much for granted. For better and for worse.

...and all too often for worse and for worserer... 

Per extension, Belgian beer festivals must ipso facto also be far superior to any other country's feeble attempt at celebrating beer. Sounds plausible, right? Best beer in the world equals best beer festivals also.

The irony is that for most Belgians, the very concept of a beer festival is, at best, highly abstract.  

But mostly, we think of it like this.

I promise I'll get into this in another article sometime soon, but when all's said and done and all the boasting about traditions and monasteries and beer-filled navel-gazing are over, most Belgians have never attended a beer festival in their entire life, and have no idea what to expect if they would. We tend to visualise them as grandly eloquent excuses to quaff beer and get drunk, like a televised soccer match during a power outage. Which, I hasten to add, they seldom if never really are. Our power lines are still very much operative, thank you very much.

While we're generalising, Belgian beer festivals come in two types.

----------------------------------------------DISCLAIMER--------------------------------------------

Don't be fooled into thinking I'm dissing either stereotype here. Whilst I may have my own personal preference where the spirit of things is concerned, you'll note that very often, the same brewers will attend festivals of both stereotype, which does not, in any way, diminish or increase my appreciation of their beers.
Some festivals are clearly in one camp or the other, most however are a bit of both. Generalisation, remember?

Also, realise that the few examples I provide below are by no means exclusive. A simple google search will list an entire calendar year's worth of beer events, and a quick perusal of the event's beer list will quickly reveal which stereotype applies best. Often, they'll be a bit of both. No way I've attended them all, not even by a long long shot. I just struck out and pinned a familiar name to the type.

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The first type of beer festival is the Ambassador's Festival. 
It is an event which is fueled chiefly by promotional motivations. 
The agenda behind this type of event is rarely "just" the enjoyment of beer, or the highlighting of a certain style or trend in brewing, but tends to be the furthering of the organising parties' cause, which can be ideological ("Fier op ons bier" because yay Belgium's navel again) or financial ("Nono, it's pure coincidence that all the attending brewers belong to the same financial holding/gigabrewery" because yay money). 
You'll obviously find all of the gigabrewers here, even if they're no longer strictly Belgian. The price of commercial succes, it seems, is becoming a resident of Pan-Globia.
Also present will be most of the mid-size to large breweries, as well as a few of the smaller which are deemed to be essentially Belgian, like the Trappists and the lambic brewers and geuzestekers. 
I'm sure the attending brewers don't all subscribe to the organising parties' ideology, of whichever ilk it may be, but the absence of the truly independent brewers is conspicuous to say the least.
Examples would be the Belgian Beer Festival (first weekend of September, on the Great Market in Brussels) and the Bierpassie Weekend (last weekend of June, on the Groenplaats in Antwerp). 
Traditions and mainstream appeal seem to be central ideas, and the odds of encountering anything resembling "craft" beer here are virtually nil.

However, it's likely this lot here will show up at some point.

The other type is the Zythophile's Festival.
It is an event which, even if only superficially, focuses on enjoyment and exploration, on discovery and, of course, on tickers (*). 

*) Homo ratebeerensis, whose sustenance is the number of Untappd badges he gets to unlock during a beer festival.

Whether they're a modest attempt to highlight smaller and lesser-known Belgian breweries, or beergeeky celebrations of contested borders of Beervania, these events tend to focus on beer itself, rather than beer as an extension of national or economic identity.
Fairly large and not-too-far-off-center examples would be the Zythos Beer Festival (last weekend of April, in the Brabanthal in Leuven), Modeste Bier Festival (first weekend of October, at the De Koninck brewery in Antwerp), and the myriad of small-to-large festivals dotting the country throughout the year. These events tend to maybe not so much focus on the underbelly of beer culture, as reserve a seat for it (*). 

*) I know. The underbelly doesn't need a seat.
Suspenders, though...

Smaller and more independent breweries attend them, with a higher likelihood of at least some of the attendees being involved in the craft scene. You'll often find quite a few of the mid-scale breweries here, rubbing shoulders with the tinier, more unknown upstarts. 

Remarkable is how lambic brewers are invited to all beer parties, and tend to be present on most of them, if not always all of them (we should be so lucky).

Expect a significant increase in the frequency by which you'll spot stuff like this on beer-stained t-shirts.

Coming back to Joan's initial topic, neither stereotype seems to focus specifically on a target audience. Beer geeks are welcome, but never exclusively so. Casual beer drinkers abound, and sometimes festivals convert them into zythophiles. However, seldom will you find an event where the express goal seems to be the furthering of one's appreciation of the diversity of beer, and the grandioseness of its Art.
Sure, there are plenty of zythophile clubs around the country, who do their utmost to Bring Beer to the People, but in spite of several decades' worth of effort, this is still very much a grassroots movement. Admitting you're a member of a beer club, even one with an ambitious name like "The Objective Beer Tasters" is sure to be met with knowing winks and nudges.

"Tasting eh?", he asked him knowingly.

Admitting to attenting a beer festival will have you do more explaining than if people found out you're a member of he town's only swingers' club: most Belgians simply cannot get past the image of the fräulein-infested beer garden. 

Conversely, while the true beergeek (Home zythophilus) wants nothing more than to convert people from Stella Slurping Sloths to Craft Craving Cronies, most Belgians have only a cursory interest in more off-centered beers. "Extreme", they'll call your average West Coast IPA. "Fake", they'll designated any lambic not acutually comme from the Zenne Valley. "Not beer", they'll call that barrel-aged imperial stout so coveted by H. zythophilus. Most Belgians, I'm sad to say, prize tradition and balance over all and any other qaualit a beer might have, and hence, most Belgian festivals will focus on those qualities, instead of the celebration of beery diversity. 

Oh and they have to get you sloshed and slightly below civil real fast too.

That someone could have an interest in beer besides its obvious alcohol content and the inebriation resulting from it, seems hard to comprehend, and harder sometimes to explain. Especially when, true to form, you'll find most Belgians all too readily compliant with the stereotypes they have themselves created.

Even the few Belgian festivals I have attended made me realise that a large percentage of the attending crowd only turned up because it was a way to get sloshed. I've seen a crowd turn into a frenzied throng whilst queuing for a particular beer at a particular festival, only because it was the strongest in attendance, and hence the quickest way to masculine intoxication.

It was the Double Black, of course.
Ain't it always?

Another fraction of attendees seem only intent on discovering sameness. They'll queue up to any brewer's booth and ask for "something that tastes like Grimbergen Bruin." Or they'll just out and ask "Have you not got any blonde then?". Any old beer will do, as long as it is something safely within their comfort zone. Unchallenging and unupsetting.

A horribly inaccurate sketch, but it gets the message across.

With these stereotypes forming a large part of the audience, it should come as no great surprise that many Belgian Beer Festivals cater to the sensible tastes of most Belgians, and truly adventurous beer festivals are hard to come by. 

True, there are a few will-hidden treasures to be found for true beer geeks. 2015 will see the return of the Alvinne Craft Beer Festival (held in Bierhalle Deconinck in Vichte on the first weekend of March), which really does seem to attempt to bring craft beer to the people. Almost unheard-of in Belgium, they'll be hosting quite a few non-Belgian breweries and even (gasp! scandal!) a couple of Dutch breweries (*).

*) really, the Belgian's prejudices which the Dutch still have to overcome when it comes to beer almost render our entire beer culture moot.

The annual Weekend der Spontane Gisting is perhaps not "craft" in our current sense understanding of it, but it's certainly so far left-of-center as to be sufficiently beer-geeky whilst being utterly disseminal at the same time.

Every Saturday afternoon, de Struise Brouwers open the doors to their brewery at the old school house, welcoming visitors from near and far, and the beers they have on tap are enough to qualify ever Saturday as Struise Festival Day. 

And just today, Tilquin announced a British beer festival. A gueuzerie, setting up a festival featuring only UK beers! How much cooler and, well, zythophilerer can you be?


While these events cater more to the beer geek than the casual drinker, I've yet to find someone who is not instantly won over by the genuine sense of conviviality which seems to run deep in the craft beer scene. True, Beer Geeks can go on for hours and hours on the ittybittygritty details of just about anything beer-related, but at heart, the Beer Geek wants nothing more than share his love for beer.  

Craft brewing (and not to be underestimated: homebrewing) is ever so slowly taking ground in Belgium, in no small part thanks to the ever increasing ranks of beergeeks lurking in the grassroots. Festivals and events become ever so slightly more beergeeky, but it's a snail-paced process. Our own national ambivalence, manifested in things like "Fier op ons Bier" whilst advertising Kasteel Rouge, seems to hold us back from embracing the adventurous art of brewing, while our traditions, so often praised and hailed when we consider the Belgian classics, actually seem to be a hindrance to us when we consider beers of different lineage and inspiration. Keeping in mind that, for most Belgians, the only decent foreign beer is Guinness Dry Stout or Martin's Pale Ale, and their thirst for whacky brews is suffiently quenched by Duvel Tripel Hop, this should come as no great surprise. Truth of the matter is this: Belgium is not used to looking elsewhere for its beer, and our festival culture seems to emphasise this to a great extent.

Beer map of the world.

Our festivals (exceptions notwithstanding) reflect our ambivalence: Belgian beer festivals tend to be about reacquainting us with the already familiar, instead of challenging us to explore the unknown.

Looking across the border, I see ambitious events great and small, which all center around the celebraton of beer. 

Every year, Borefts (NL) sees Europe's best brewers flock to the site of De Molen, to share their beers with an audience which is ready to have their beery preconceptions challenged, I blabbed about Borefts (here and here) but really, it is in a league all its own.
Zeebra (NL), now preparing for its third iteration, is the joint effort of a small group of die hard beer geeks, who realise that beer is worthless unless it is enjoyed in good company. Each year they go to great lengths to collect some of the world's rarest and most (in)famous beers, just so that anyone with an interest in beer but a limited beer budget can sample them, and make up his own mind. 
Brodies Bunny Basher (UK) is an annual Easter festival, during which the brewer puts a veritable shitload of often innovative beers on offer.
Then there's GBBF (UK), Copenhagen Beer Celebration (DK) and so many more, and I cannot help but tap my foot impatiently for the entire Belgian beer scene to snap out of it, and start celebrating beer properly.

Where Beer Culture (and per extension Beer Festival Culture) is concerned, Belgium is sadly lagging behind the rest of the world, resting on the laurels piled upon its balding head while the world spins widdershins whilst we ponder our beer-sloshed navel. When it comes to beer, most Belgians are disjointedly proud of the immense amount of sameness they produce, and the very idea of a festival celebrating the diversity, and, yes, the audicity of beer, is alienating to many.

But, ending on a postive note, things are changing. Slowly, but then again, you can't hurry beer.
Most Belgians are wary of the concept of a Beer Geek, but are ultimately and easily won over by the boundless love for beer H. zythophilus radiates.

If one thing connects most Belgians,it may well be our love for beer. 

Too bad we so often seek it in our navel.

Your thoughts, Constant Reader, are very much appreciated.

Until then,

Greetz,

Jo

Zombination!

Celebration!

Collaboration!

Zombination!

Good grief, Team Spain had been partying for the better part of a week already!

Explains a thing or two…

On Friday October 17th, de Struise opened the doors of ’t Oude Schooltje to welcome friends old and new for a special occasion.

Three years ago, Gabriel decided to start importing Struise brews into the Iberic peninsula, turning a fun pastime into a fulltime job. That day, Zombier was born.

It should come as no great surprise that when Gabriel called Urbain and mentioned his upcoming anniversary, both agreed that the brewing of a festive beer was in order.

A bit of malt, a bit of hops.

The rest, as they say, is beer.

“A beer which I can drink in 10 years and think of this day”, mused Gabriel.

“A badass beer, brewed with our friends attending”, grinned Urbain.

Between themselves, they hatched a plan. A plan which would take the shape of a monstrous 17% ABV imperial stout, boosted by local ingredients from across Europe, aged in barrels various and multifarious.

The parallels with Black Damnation were easily recognisable, and so the beer was dubbed Zombination.

The plan became a party, like the best-laid plans should.

Invitations were sent, and along with Gabriel and his gang of crazy Iberians came some of Europe’s finest brewers, to aid and supervise the brewing of Zombination.

Each visiting brewer brought a jar of local honey (*) to add to the slowly developing Zombination, and each took home the recipe of this collaborative brew.

*) actually, some of them brought something else which had a tangential relationship with honey by I digress and besides, rest assured it will add to the brew’s complexity.

From Spain came Gabriel himself and his crew.

Honey blend for a to-be-blended beer.

From the Netherlands came Menno (De Molen) and Kees (Kees!).

Coincidence has it that not a single pic was taken that day with Kees and Menno together, so I nicked one off the interwebs. Because yay journalism.
Also: they seem to've found at least one marble between the two of them.

From Norway came Jens and Joan(*) (Haandbryggeriet).

…who actually look a lot less skeptical in real life.

*) and also, actually, Joan comes from Spain but…ah, it’s a long story.

From the UK came a handsome trio of upstarts: Stuart (Magic Rock), Logan (Beavertown) and another birthday boy: Jonnie (Brodies).

Brewing’s a serious business, y’know?

And from Belgium, of course, Urbain himself.

Who else could we trust to stir this badass brew?

Gabriel, who is sitting on the best of barrels if we’re to believe Urbain (and really, why should be not?) will provide barrels of Oporto, Málaga, Jerez, Caol Ila, Woodford Reserve and (this is where we really get stoked about the whole thing) others.

Oh and maybe a few other secret ingredients we can’t tell you about. Complexity, remember?

Brewing’s a patient craft, so in between bouts of brewing activities, all assembled took part of quite a few beers, had lunch, and dinner, and more beers, and more lunch, and fun was had by all.

Except, perhaps, by the three- legged pig.

Plans were made to evaluate the slumbering monster we’d come to know as Zombination, and to think of the various ways in which it will be set loose upon the world. Current plans involve seven different versions, but just like we’ve come to expect from de Struise, all plans are subject Urbain’s the watchful eye and his ruthless pursuit of quality.

The beers will be ready when they’re ready.

A large part of this picture is NOT Zombination, freshly drafted from the fermentor.

When they are, you will be able to enjoy them, as Gabriel requested, in ten years.

Until then,

Greetz

Jo

HoppySlosh Steps Out: Borefts 2014!

The end of September means several things and one of them is Borefts.

Pic not mine.

Every year, a choice selection of brewers from across Europe gathers for what many consider to be the definitive beer festival. Last year was my first time attending, and there was little that could stop me from attending again this year. Joined by BeerBert and fellow-homebrewer Frank, we set out on the last sunny Saturday morning of September, in high spirits and more than a little excited(*) already.

*) "excited" was redefined by Toby later on during the day, but we weren't excited in that way yet.

No less than 19 brewers had set up their stalls on the premises of De Molen, Bodegraven's most prominent landmark as well as the site of the eponymous(*) brewery.

*) as one attendee remarked: "Choosing a name for your brewery is easy if you have this kind of setting. I mean, "De Ark" would have been stupid, right?"

This is how you use the number nineteen and be meaningful, Steve.

Närke were present again with a number of traditional and/or herbal beers. I started off the proceedings with a Peated Viking, which was remarkably easy for such a boldly named beer. Peat and smoke, sure, but nothing as bold or overstated as you'd expect from a bog-flavoured norseman. BeerBert went for the moose-grass-based Äljäjl, which highlighted Närke's signature: another seemingly easy brew, which nonetheless displayed its intriguingly subdued flavour profile in its late finish. Frank, who had a cold, decided straight away to forego all subtlety and dove into the Kaggen! Raspberry Stormaktsporter. The Kaggen in its basic version is one of those White Whale brews which will set you back a good 300 bucks (or the equivalent thereof in other rare brews) if purchased through the Internet Beer Market. Which is why I've yet to taste it, but was thrilled to find the raspberry version here at Borefts.

...with raspberries, and sans the shear-like jaws.

I loved the smell of this beer, which was everything a porter should ever smell like and more. In the taste, the raspberry both added and subtracted from the overall enjoyment of it. While the idea of red fruit in porters is sound and sensible, it's an idea that's often let me down, and here again, I've the impression the Kaggen simply doesn't need the extra raspberry. That being said: excellent porter, and decidedly different from the other brews Närke had to offer.

Going back for seconds, I had the Tanngnjost&Tanngrisnir , a traditional ale using beech-smoked malt and juniper-infused mash water. Much like the Peated Viking, this was a wonderfully smooth smoked brew, with a hint of the junipers coming through. Going by the name and the ratebeer description, I'd hazard this was actually a bock-beer (and hence a lager) but brewer HG Wiktorsson claimed it to be fermented with ale yeast. 

Oh and HG & crew liked my Sahti!

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Interlude

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I recently brewed Sahti and what better opportunity for me to get me some credible feedback than to bring along a half-gallon growler for the brewers at Borefts to sample? 

Let the brewers decide.

So yes, I pushed my homebrew sahti onto all and any unsuspecting brewer and forced some compliments out of them. Most were actually very civil and polite about the whole thing. None begged for second servings, though.

For future reference, I present to you the Borefts Attending Brewers' Sahti Appreciation Scale (BABSAS, trademark pending).

1 - spat out in disgust 

2 - made the "blech" face

3 - made the puckering "eww what's this oh wait I think I got it down" face

4 - made the "meh" face

5 - politely went "Hm.", then handed back the glass and pretended none of this just happened

6 - arched one eyebrow and expressed mild approval

7 - "It's not shit"

8 - genuinely seemed to like it

9 - genuinely seemed to like it and/or kept the glass and/or was actually Scandinavian

10 - Menno. Not necessarily the rating you want though.

For individual brewer's BABSAS ratings, scroll way way down.

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Interlude about done now

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With the Sahti rapidly warming up, I hurried over to Brekeriet's stall, where I wheedled more affirmations of "uhuh it's not bad" out of the attending brew-crew, after which I helped myself to a glass of Brunette, a sour brown, with a strong lactic sourness, typical of culture-inoculated sour ales, combined with a slumbering "brown" aroma of toffee and toasted biscuits. The brewers seemed like an ambitious bunch, and my interest is piqued. Keeping an eye open for them.

BeerBert meanwhile had helped himself to a glass of Saison L'Ete from Burning Sky. Interesting brewery, who seem to've embraced the farmhouse idea of the saison style quite intimately. They brew quite a few saisons, and they brew 'em in a barn. What's not to love about these guys? The Saison L'Ete was a nice and summery brew, with a hint of lemony freshness. Light and quenching, and a very OK brew. 

Much much later in the evening, I finished off the festival with a glass of their Saison à la Provision which was soured with Lacto and aged on Bordeaux barrels. I love the idea (and "historical correctness") of sour saison, and this one was an excellent execution of the idea: fresh, tart, lingering, and just complex enough to keep wanting more. Definitely a brewery I want to taste more of, and I think I got a bit teary when lamenting the irony of UK brewers doing more, better and more inventive saison brewing than most of Wallonia combined.

Joined by two mates and their spouses, beers started following one another in quick succession so pardon me if memory fails and/or I somehow lost track of the exact sequence of choice beers.

Frank (who's a sourhead and no jokes there please) had some two-weeks-old Kriek by Cantillon. I love how a true, proper kriek manages to blend all the flavours of the old and new lambiek together with the fruits and pips of the cherries. Tart and sour, but it's a more mature, stately sourness than what you'll find in cultured sour ales. 

Culture. Not culture.

Sour, you say? The Kernel brought an absolutely outstanding Raspberry sour, brimming with juicy raspberry goodness, and solid, tart-but-not-puckering sourness underneath. Quite spectacular, and obviously something they're very proud of.

Another sour Frank came up with is Tilquin's Meerts, a Radler(*)-meerts hybrid which was very refreshing and yet slightly chewy. No idea how representative this is of the historic meerts style, but I'm intrigued.

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Interlude part deux

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*) Radler.

Ok. 

Sit down, draw a deep breath, relax your mind and let go of your preconceptions. Which I share, for that matter. 

Radler isn't beer. 

At best, Radler has beer in it, but not much, and mostly not very good beer to begin with.

Radler is the recreational cyclist's answer to Bacardi Breezer. It's a low-abv alco-pop, based on beer instead of spirits. It's a bit of beer, with a lot of lemonade, and tastes like soda pop poured in a used beer glass. It's mankind's way of flipping the bird to the idea that you can't do sports and drink beer and every time you order one in a bar or pub, god kills a puppy.

Better now?

Every year, Menno challenges the attending brewers to brew "something else". Something inventive or clever or far-fetched or not-done. Something with which they can demonstrate their Craft. Achievement unlocked, that kind of thing.

This year (however did you guess?) the challenge was Radler. Needless to say (but I'm sayin' anyway) brewers and attendees took the idea and ran with it, resulting in everything from The Kernel's 1.5% ABV Lime Radler to De Molen's 11.8% "Imperial" Radler with Amarena, and from Toccalmato's on-the-spot infusions with lemon, over Brekeriet's rhubarb sour all the way to Het Uiltje's G&T infused radler.

Now quit yer whinin'.

...and have a Radler.

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Interlude's over

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BeerBert, who loves his blacks and no that's not a poltically incorrect statement at all thank you very much, brought over a rapid succession of impy stouts and the likes. Magic Rock's BA Bearded Lady was nice and smooth, and also not a radler, and Het Uiltje's Meneer de Uil Bowmore was very, very Bowmore-ish, which, while a good thing in my opinion, was not to everyone's taste: big and ashy and very assertive.

From there on, things escalated, and some of the more heavy-handed brews entered into the picture. De Molen are known for plus-size brews, and we had the intriguing Vlees&Bloed, with fleur de sel, habanero and heather honey. Immensely rewarding brew: full and fleshy, with none of the components ever outshining the other: a pinch of salt to fatten the body, a meaty undercurrent of habaneros and just enough honey to make it luxurious. A meal, including appetisers and desserts, in a glass.
The Hel&Verdoemenis Wild Turkey Eisbock is nothing shy of a miracle. The WT edition of the H&V is already immensely drinkable, but the eisbock version is ridiculously delicious, and dangerously drinkable at 20%ABV. Definitely one of the best eisbocks I ever tasted.
For comparison's sake, I hauled ass to Emelisse's stall and fetched me a sample of their XXV, a 25% ABV eisbocked black&tan, which, while still an impressive beast of a brew, was really really boozy and a bit of a throat burner. Much more macho than the WT H&V.

One of the ladies present asked me (of all people) what she should have, and since she apologetically confirmed the stereotype that ladies prefer sweet beers, and expressed an interest in barley wines, I pointed her to De Molen's stall again, with instructions to order the Prachtig&Machtig, a collaboration brew with Emelisse. While none of our group really likes barley wines, this one was unanimously  declared spectactular. Yes, it's sweet, but heavens does it have oodles of flavour as well! It's really one of those beers that make you reconsider your opinions and prejudices, and again confirms the fact that Kees & Menno have their shit together.

Not an actual picture of Menno&Kees' shit.

Further descent into stout madness yielded Emelisse's Aceto Balsamico, which was interesting but kinda confirmed my suspicion that acetic flavour work well in salads and British chips, but not so much in beer.
Last year's wonderboys Laugar were back with their awesome Aupa Tovarish which once again did not disappoint. Their Aizkolari Crowbeer however was not something we were fond of: a "Belgian strong ale" which reminded me a bit of Delirium Tremens in its expressive yeastiness. Quite likely a good example of the style, but nonetheless a style I don't quite fancy.
Hell & Zombier, a collab brew between De Molen and brewer-beerseller Zombier, was a huge coffee bomb, and possibly one of the most intensely coffee-flavoured coffee stouts I have ever tasted.
Närke's Skvat Galen was brought out at some point, re-emphasising the simple fact that I don't really like gruit beers, and that perhaps the sweet gale is partly to blame for that. Objectively, this was a good example of a gruit/herb beer, but subjectively, I was put off by the combination of sweet/malty and the herbal taste of the gale.

One thing which struck me quite a few times: IPAs and festivals are not the insta-win I'd pictured them to be. Sure, the hops will clamorously announce themselves, no matter what (or how much) you've tasted before, but all the subtlety and, well, greatness layered on by all that hoppiness sort of blends together in a uniform, nondescript "yeah it's an IPA" kinda way.
From Magic Rock's Cannonball all the way to The Kernel's IPA (I forget but I though it was Simcoe, Columbus and something else): none of them were allowed to shine in the presence of all these other flavours.
I'm sure somewhere out there, a self-help guide(*) exists which lines all these things out, but I suspect next time I'd better start with IPAs, and go from there, rather than mix them between the lot as I go along. 

*) Oh look. It does.

In spite of my lack of appreciation for the IPAs on offer, a couple of exceptional ales did bring a smile to my face. The Kernel brought a truly spectactular Columbus pale ale which somehow made much more of an impression that their IPA. Columbus is a great hops even by its lonely self, and this beer proved both that, and the fact that yes, hoppy beers can stand up to the onslaught of bizarre and strong flavours of such a festival setting.
The Kernel guys once again proved themselves to be amiable fellows, brimming with enthusiasm and a love for brewing, beer and consumers alike. Also, Toby took great care to explain to me the difference between being drunk(*) and "so excited I really need to hold on to this tent pole" which I'm sure will be a great leverage tool in future discussions with him.

*) all jest and slander aside, he wasn't drunk. No really he wasn't. Just very excited.

Another IPA-related brew which did stand out was a trio of Japanese fruit-brews brought along by Evil Twin. I had the Femme Yuzu, an all-Brett IPA, flavoured with yuzu juice. 

Lemon-quince hybrid basterdised by pumpkin mongrel. Yummy.

Not an IPA in the traditional sense at all (De Molen brought a series of fruit-based IPAs as well so maybe this really is the future of IPA), this reminded me more of a fruit-based sour saison. Very fresh and tart, refreshing and slightly puckering, but really really tasty. Frank had their Nomad Weisse which was likewise fresh and tart, but didn't really make much of an impression.

Last in line of the new wave of British ales was the most unassuming brew of the festival. Seemingly lost between the huge 30-tap stall of De Molen and Burning Sky's huge horizontal plywood menu-counter, was Gadds' Ramsgate Brewery. Almost apologetically, the couple manning the tap (sorry folks, I missed your names) explained how they brew classic UK ales (including a boring old brown), and that they'd only brought their Green Hop Ale which was all about fresh green East Kent Goldings hops. The end of September is a great time to be serving fresh hops beers, even if perhaps the greenness of the hops only arguably adds to the flavour of the beer. This one tasted clearly of EKG, which happens to be one of my favourite hops, given its ability to outshine even the most clamorously balls-to-the-wall hops from the States, when used properly. While I liked the Green Hop Ale, it suffered a bit from non-optimal cask  conditions (which they warned me about in advance and apologised for profusely): it was flat, even beyond the stereotype of UK-beer-as-seen-by-continentals, and the aromas were decidedly unconventional (read: normal) for a festival like Borefts. I felt for them, as they'd clearly made an effort to brew a very solid ESB, which, sadly, is easy to dismiss out of hand when overshadowed by such noisy neighbours. 

Kudos for bringing the only "normal" beer to the festival, extra kudos for using plain old EKG, even more kudos for bringing a real cask and bonus kudos for scoring 9 on the BABSAS and not even being vaguely Scandinavian.

What else? What else....memory is a fickle thing once Borefts reaches the 5:00 PM mark, but I distinctly remember Rocket Brewing's Supernova, a Flemish Brown which tasted (I suspect unintentionally) like pork sausage.

Oh and I had my first ever Berliner Weisse, expertly brewed and poured by Brasserie du Mont Salève. Theirs was perhaps the most varied collection of brews (a smoked IPA! a BA rye porter! a gentian gruit!), and since I have a medical condition called chronic indeciciveness, I let the head brewer decide. Their Berliner weisse really blew me away, and was perhaps the singlemost outstanding(*) brew of the festival as far as I'm concerned. Brewed with a sour mash comprising the totality of the mashed grains, this beer was fresh and lactic, with a vast array of subtle wild flavours lurking underneath the tartness. It reminded me a lot of my own attempt at brewing a sour gose (brewsflash imminent), albeit much more skillfully executed than my own sour wort experiment. Duh.
Really, if I could take home one single brew of this festival, it would be this one. The Kernel's Raspberry sour is a close second.

*) the concept of outstanding requires a new definition when mentioned in the context of Borefts. Perhaps it means nothing more than "I can still taste it, in a good way, even though I think fondly of all those other brews"

Borefts 2014 was a blast. We had great weather, great fun and great beers. The community spirit, the sharing vibe and the ceaseless "What's that you're having ooh and have a sip of this", all of that and more is what makes me yearn for the last weekend of September 2015 already.

Until then,

Greetz

Jo

Oh. Almost forgot.

For future reference and scientific purposes manifold, here are the individual brewers' BABSAS ratings. Some were lucky and escaped the social pressure of having to taste it, but they won't get away so easily next time.

Närke crew:                    9

Brekeriet boys:               5 with a hint of 9

Burning Sky:                  9 and are as Scandinavian as Ploughman's Lunch. So yay.

Emelisse:                         6 and added "no really"

The Kernel:                    7 but Evin actually ditched whatever he was having at the time in favour of an entire glass of mine yay!

Mont Salève:                  5 mais peut-être j'avais mal expliqué

De Bierderie(°):             8 and gave me a bottle of Mirjam in exchange

Menno:                          10 which is somehow not as impressive as it looks

Ah...Menno. 

Menno took a sip, and proclaimed "Ah that's not Sahti" with his lips still wet. Too little juniper character, too much yeast. All true, and even though he's hardly Finnish, I reckon he was, like myself, disappointed by the lack of oomph of this brew. Knowing Menno's brews, any Sahti coming his way would definitely have to be more, well, more in order to impress(*). It needs more of the essence of Sahti, and definitely could use some exaggeration. Ah well...there's always next time.
Also, this means the BABSAS is the only scientific scale where 10 means both "Menno approves" and "Menno was not impressed". In a weird way, that's all the encouragement this particular homebrewer needs at the moment.

*) Mind, my goal was not to impress but yeah, impressing Menno would have been great.

°) more news on Mirjam later but thanks to Dagmar for her ceaseless PR endeavours. May they odds be ever in your favour.

HoppySlosh brews: Sahti

A long overdue update, for which (*) I humbly apologise.

*) for it being overdue, that is. Not for the update itself. Duh.

These past few months have been rather busy, with much brewing and tasting and a couple of beery events surreptitiously trying to intertwine with my everyday activities, insofar as those don't already center around beer.

...such as dreaming of beer...

One little project I embarked on was the brewing of sahti. This almost extinct Finnish beer style is a remnant of the days when literally everyone knew how to brew beer, despite knowing hardly jack shit about how brewing beer actually works. Quaint rural brewing practices, still unhindered by scientific knowledge, form the basis of this empiric, and nigh-on disappeared beer style.

Finland has it all.

Sahti, then, is a primitive country beer, historically brewed by Finnish farmers using whatever they had lying about the place (not unlike saison in that regard) but typically including a hefty dose of rye malt.
More importnant than its malt composition, however, is the use of juniper during the lautering(*), in the form of berries, branches and needles. The idea is to use the piney fragrant branches to serve as a filtering aid.

*) lautering, you ignoramuses, is fancy brew speak and entails the recirculation of the turbid wort through the mash grain, which serves as a filter to clarify it.


Juniper (aka Juniperus communis), I am sad to report, is a protected species in this part of the world, but apparently it's free-range in parts of France, where my inlaws, assisited by a local friendly couple, were able to score me a box of fresh twigs.

Juniperus communis in hic arca.

No web article about sahti is complete unless it features that picture of the headless, feetless Fin pouring his mash on top of a layer of fresh juniper twigs, into a hand-made hollowed-out log...

...called a kuurna

The idea is simple and self-evident: the twigs in the kuurna not only serve as a filter, but at the same time impart a resiny juniper flavour to the wort.

First things first: I mashed my grist (60% Pale malt, 25% munich and 15% rye malt) with water in which I'd steeped those same branches which would later filter my wort.. 

Berries included.

 While the mash was underway, I layered the twigs onto the false bottom of my highly sophisticated Double Bucket Mash Filter Gizmo Thingy (TM pending), onto which I dumped the mash.

21st century kuurna's are made of white plastic though.

Now a word on rye.

It's a bitch.

No lacing it: rye is a bitch to lauter and sparge(*) because it forms the gummiest, stuckest filter bed since the invention of the verb "to stick".

 *) sparging is more confusing brewspeak for "rinsing the mash to extract more awesome from the grist".

Good thing I had plenty of other things to do inside the house because the sparge took literally forever (°). And it was raining.

Sparging at a milliliter per minute or so

°) Well, no, not literally forever otherwise I'd still be sitting there waiting for it to finish and you wouldn't be reading about how long it took since it would still be busy taking literally forever.

 Eventually, I collected about 3 gallons of turbid(*) wort, 30 gravitiy point shy of my 1.100 goal (°).

 *) since sahti is traditionally a cloudy drink, that didn't bother me none.

°) That's 1.070 in case you're confused by now

Besides the juniper-kuurna-shennannigans, sahti is known for two other things. The first is anathema to most brewers (and beers alike): no boiling.

Like I'm going to spoil the opportunity to show you what Anathema looks like these days...

No boiling means traditional sahti is meant to be drunk fresh and fast (yeah, vikings don't drink slowly but at least their brew is fresh). Since I didn't fancy quaffing 3 gallons of strong weird beer all by myself, I decided to flip the bird to tradition and do short, 15 minute boil with a handful of saaz hops for sanitary reasons. Tossed in a handful of dried juniper berries for good measure.

Cooled to tolerable levels and then pitched. 

With bread yeast.

...which, I hasten to add, I did not dissove in milk first
Pic not mine.

Fermentating with bread yeast is another quirk which sets the sahti brewer apart from his peers. Although it could be debated how likely it would be for 16th century Fins to have a steady supply of beer yeast cubes, I can agree with the idea (or at least the spirit) of using bread-related fermenting agents, rather than, say, leftover sahti.

Without putting up more pics of scouser post doom metal bands: brewing with baker's yeast is also anathema and very much frowned upon, even among home brewers. However, since brewer's yeast and baker's yeast are both essentially the same genus and species (Saccharomyces cerevisiae), there's absolutely no reason other than the strictly brew-technical why you couldn't brew with either.

Baker's yeast ferments swiftly, vigorously and Fragrantly, with fenolic whiffs of banana and clove wafting from the airlock. A bit like a hefe going postal.

From 1.070 to 1.010 in three days.
Showoff.

The resulting beer is flat, and intended to be drunk as such. Ideally scooped directly from the fermenting bucket, however I decided to bottle anyway.

Cloudy, with a chance of beer.

 An 8% ABV semi-authentic Scandinavian herb brew, in just over three days. Not too shabby.

But what's it taste like?
Well, honestly, even though I quite like it, it's nowhere near as special as I'd imagined it. Sure, it's cloudy and flat, and smells strongly of yeasty phenolics (specifically ripe banana), but the juniper is somewhat disappointingly subdued. There's a slight zip of resins way at the back of the finish, but without a heads-up, you'd never tell it's a juniper brew.

My guess is that the branches were either not "in season" (meaning they weren't fragrant enough yet) or they were the wrong variety after all. If you scroll up again to the pic of the headless feetless kuurna guy, you'll notice his twigs are not only a different shade of green, but also morphologically different. My guess is he's using the viginiana variety, which is native to North America, and which I presume is more piney, seeing as how much more coniferous it is than its communis cousin.

All that being said: this was a fun beer to brew. Not only do I like its oddball character, I also like many of the archaic techniques that comprise its brewing process. While perhaps not very special flavour-wise, the result is tasty enough for me to want to improve on it.

Definitely something I'll try again, possibly in the shape of a spruce or pine beer.

Until then,

Greetz

Jo, who will do his best not to take so long between blog updates anymore

Brewsflash

March already nearly gone and not a blog entry in sight. Have no fear, beergeeks of the world, a long-due update is here at last!

The past month has been rather busy, with a bunch of brews and other beery events in swift succession. A short (ahem) recap is in order.

The Emelisse crew hosted a get-together-again for the lucky attendees of their earlier first edition of HomeBrewDay. Yours Truly attended the former as well as the latter, and was rewarded with not only 20 liters of Emelisse IPA wort, to ferment at his own leisure and in the comfort of his own home/brewery, but also with the scoring of a few new beery acquaintainces. Homebrewers are a jovial lot, and both days were a hit as far as I'm concerned.
I did some pretty left-field experiments with Kees' beer, adding citrus peel and ginger in secondary for one batch, and Thai herbs&spices for another.

Brewing with veggies. 

Neither brew ended up entirely drinkable (*) but at least I learned a thing or two about whacky ingredients in beer.
In case you're wondering, a third batch is still chewing on that pomegranate you see on the right. More news on that one if I ever got to bottle it.

*) which is BrewSpeak for "entirely undrinkable". As in "dishwasher fluid".

While we're on the subject of brewing disasters: that kagami biraki brew I've been meaning to serve the dudes and dudettes at Honbu Dojo is another dud. A loud, smelly and blisteringly bitter dud, but a dud nonetheless. My hefeweizen yeast, which was less than enthusiastic during primary fermentation, refused to impart any hefe-qualities to the brew, so it ended up thin, watery and decidedly off-center where hops are concerned. It might still mellow out eventually, but there's no way I'm serving that at the dojo, lest I turn them all off of beer forever. I'll need to come up with another brew if I'm ever to be taken seriously again whenever I invoke BrewDay as an excuse to miss training, but I've an idea or two. More news if and when.

What with all the brew mishaps happening lately, I rallied BeerBert and BeerFrank and together, we entered the Brouwland Competition. Our entry will be a saison which we soured prior to primary fermentation using a specially selected Lactobacillus started.

By which I mean we poured in a bottle of geuze.

It's ready to be bottled now, and it's looking very promising. Apples, and a bit of vinous complexity not unreminiscent of Flemish old brown ales, coupled with a mild but very present tartness make this a brew I really look forward to brewing again, even if it never wins a prize. Which I'm hoping it will though.

Wort souring. Note the presence of wild kraüsen,
also known as "infernal spawn of evil". 

We brewed this one in the morning (the wort had to sour for a few days before we could boil it) so we had time for another brew. Veyversleyck version 2.0 will be a bit beefier than the one I brewed last year, with more focus on the (deliberately mucky) mud-colour and a bit more hop-centeredness. Pacific Jade is still there, this time joined by its granddaughter Waimea. Shoudl be ready for secondary any day now, altough the main reason it's still sitting on the yeast is a sudden shortage in fermentation vessels which I hope to remedy someday soon.

Also nearing the end of primary is a SMaSH (*) beer using second generation saison yeast and Summer hops. Smells promising already, although I'm not picking up any of the promised apricot/melon touches. Very curious as to how that one will turn out.

*) Single Malts and Single Hops. What it says really: a simple recipe with minimal ingredient complexity.

Spring is showing its pale winter skin and all around shoots are sprouting.

Meantime Hops-in-a-Box finally showing their true colour.

Spring also saw yours truly and the Missus visiting London again, where a visit to the Kernel proved incompatible with British Airways' Hand Luggage Only policy.

Thank you, terrorists of all and any presuasion, for not yet being caught with explosives in 100ml bottles
or I'd never have got this one across the Channel.

The guys and girls at the Kernel are absolute darlings, and their beers are by for the most impressive UK brews I've tasted so far, so if you're around, stop by to say hello and have a brew. I had their barrel aged saison (which tasted suspiciously like what I had in mind for our competition brew but I'm trying to think of that as a good thing) and their brown ale, both of which were yum, but it was the Polaris pale ale which really blew me away. Definitely a hops I need to get to know and brew a few beers with.

March also saw me adding another 1 to my age, an event which was celebrated with food and beer and, most importantly, friends. Say what you will of beer but once enjoyed, it's gone. Friends, when well cared for, are forever. Thanks, y'all!

Greetz

Jo