First and foremost, I, the Dan half of the Brew Man Group, would like to thank Neil for covering the last issue of our column, and for allowing me to go solo in this issue with what shall be a summary and analysis of awesome beer in Europe.
As alluded to in previous editions, I’ve spent the last two months wandering a continent that could fit inside our province, admiring the art and architecture, appreciating the natural geography, and making friends with the hundreds of other Canadians (we like to travel, apparently) doing the exact same thing. But most importantly, I’ve gone one tipsy step further and sought out the native (and worthwhile) beers in every single country, and this is the story I now present to our readers. From the tiny pubs of “bad weather, worse food, Mary f**king Poppins” England, to Colin Farrell’s only successful attempt at acting in Bruges, I shall bring forth the word of good beer and the quests required to seek it out.
England: Everyone knows this country is all about the pubs and the the cask ale. While there are innumerable unique, flavourful, delicious ales to be had in England, they can be tricky to find unless you venture out into smaller towns. While in London, it seemed almost every pub was happy to pump out Greene King IPA and Old Speckled Hen. Cambridge, on the other hand, had dozens of regional craft brews to offer. My favourite stop was The Elm Tree, a tiny tavern specializing in micro-brews and heavy metal (effin’ eh). Further North, the York Brewery produces some incredible ales and has a few of their own pubs scattered about the ancient walled village. Sip on their Centurion’s Ghost at the Three Legged Mare before enjoying a Cornish pasty (don’t I sound British!?). If stuck in a large city, then craft beer bars can be found (with some difficulty). I’d suggest asking a local but everyone in London seemed to drink pale lagers. Leeds was better, plus the people in the North are nicer.
Ireland: Guinness, right? Yep. Guinness, and things owned by Guinness, are about all you’ll find when it comes to Irish beer. I must digress, the tour at the brewery is very impressive (visually, anyway). After wandering through displays on Guinness history, beer ingredients, cask manufacturing, and Guinness’ famous advertisements, you exchange your ticket for a pint in the massive, all-glass Gravity Bar which has a terrific view of Dublin. Plus, there are enough old couples who can’t drink more than two sips that you just might get handed a free pint (or two, in my case). Also available in Ireland are Kilkenny, Smithwick’s, and Harp Lager, all owned by Guinness (and served at every Irish pub in the world). Apparently Ireland isn’t too into the whole microbrewery thing, so don’t feel too guilty if you spend most of your time there drinking Guinness. If you can, have Murphy’s instead – it’s like Guinness, but better. Alternately, drink Guinness Foreign Extra Stout, a 7.5% stout that uses the actual (original) Guinness recipe, not the watered down draught version we’re all used to.
France/Spain/Italy/Hungary: Welcome to the land of the generic Euro-lager. Just like we have Molson Canadian, France has Kronenbourg, Spain has San Miguel, Italy has Peroni, and Hungary has Dreher. Great domestic brews are simply hard to find. My one success story came about in an Italian supermarket, in the form of two extremely expensive pint bottles (4.50 euro each, more than I ever paid for a bottle of wine in Italy) from a brewery called Birrificio Degli Archi. The Regio (a Scottish ale) and Ossessa (a stout) were both stellar, and motivated me to look up the brewery. Turns out they only started in 2008, are very small, but seem to fall in with a recent trend of good Italian microbreweries (perhaps some sort of anti-wine revolution?).
Czech Republic: You know Pilsner Urquell? Yes you do, it comes in a green and gold can at the LCBO, has a crisp hoppy taste, and probably ended up in your last 8 pack of mixed cans. Well it’s important to know that this was the very first pilsner in the world (it was named as such because it comes from Plzen). It’s also important to know that this beer is freaking awesome when it’s fresh on tap. The fresh, grassy, floral hops make this an addictive session beer. Thankfully pints tend to cost about $2, so it’s an easy habit to sustain.
Germany: Munich is the beer capital of Germany. Almost all the best and most popular German beers are made there (Weihenstephaner, Andechs, Hacker-Pschorr, Paulaner, etc.), they have massive biergartens that sling litre glasses of cold brew, and they host Oktoberfest every fall. But wait, I’m staying in Berlin the entire time? Oh. F**k. On the plus side, I did visit the oldest biergarten in Berlin and had a pint of my favourite hefeweizen (Weihenstephaner… grab it at the LCBO) while watching everyone else get way too excited about the world cup.
Rarer beers can be hard to find (only two good bottle shops in Berlin; the one on East side of the wall is reportedly racist, so go to Ambrosetti on the West side), but the popular awesome beers are everywhere. Bars are a guaranteed good time, but I felt way local and cool walking around Kreuzberg with road beers for a few hours, ducking into convenience stores for a new one whenever necessary (don’t worry, they have bottle openers at the register!) Don’t forget to fill up on currywurst on the way home.
Belgium: Honestly, this place is everything I dreamed it would be. I spent three days in Brussels, four in Brugge, managed to try 35 different beers, and drank the number one ranked beer in the world; the elusive Trappist ale, Westvleteren 12 (for the record, it might have in fact been the best beer I’ve ever tried). Amazing brews are everywhere. Bottle shops like Beer Planet or De Bier Tempel carry hundreds, sometimes over 1000 different Belgian beers, grocery stores and internet cafes put the LCBO’s selection to shame, and then there’s bars like the Delirium Cafe with the world record for most beers at a bar (2004, to be exact). I should rip on Neil for missing out on this but I just can’t; this is a paradise all beer lovers deserve to experience. One highlight was sampling Lambic beers; sour ales created by spontaneous fermentation, meaning they use the wild yeasts that exist naturally in the air. In Brussels I visited the hundred year-old Cantillon brewery, snuck in on a private tour, and learned tons about this unique process. It’s curious to note that if the building were to burn down, all the special yeasts living in the ceiling and floor would perish and the brewery could never exist again.
As I write this I am in Amsterdam. Unfortunately I have not yet sampled many Dutch beers, but after Belgium, it’s like, what’s the point. My palate will no longer tolerate anything less complex than a David Lynch film. Plus, Neil told me about this herb that’s in the same family as hops that I’m supposed to check out. Speaking of which…
Props to hops // Dan (and Neil, in spirit)
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