I have written in the past (https://www.londonbiermeister.co.uk/blog/vive-la-belgique-lange-leve-belgie-november-2020) about the tremendous contribution that Belgium has made to the brewing of beer. I have lived previously in Belgium and enjoyed the great riches on offer in the bars and supermarkets. This includes the great beers painstakingly brewed by monks. But I had never ventured to a monastic brewery. Until now.
So what is it about monks and brewing? The story starts with St Benedict of Nursia, who lived from AD 480-547. We know about him from Pope Gregory I’s account of his life in AD 595. His rule was simple. Monks should pray and work. “Ora et labora”. The product of their work should be available to the community if it exceeded their own needs. They should not make any profit. Nor indeed take sinful pride in it. If this sounds hardcore, the Rule of St Benedict was actually viewed as a model of pragmatism.
The followers of Benedict were not strictly an “order”, but a collection of congregations. The Abbey of Citeaux near Dijon gave its name to the Cistercians, who identified themselves as strict followers of Benedict in 1098. It was also around this time that historians have identified the beginnings of industrialised beer production. By monks. This was muscling in on what had traditionally been women’s work. I have written about this elsewhere (https://www.londonbiermeister.co.uk/blog/the-beer-witch-project-march-2021)
The next phase came in 1664 when another Abbot thought that the Cistercians were going soft and needed to get back to basics, so once again formed a breakaway movement. Abbe Armand De Rance set up the Order of the Cistercians of the Strict Observance. This was a bit of a mouthful, so the order took on a familiar name derived from De Rance’s monastery in Normandy - La Trappe. They became the Trappists. As can happen with a zealous purist movement, they attracted followers, and some monasteries converted to strict observance.
(By the way, they are actually allowed to speak. But only when necessary. Unnecessary speaking distracts from the contemplation of God’s purpose. They are allowed hand signals. The views of Abbe De Rance on unnecessary hand signals are not recorded.)
The history of precise cause and effect is a bit unclear, but basically a load of monks came to the view that Belgium was more congenial for them than France. The somewhat aggressive secularism of the French Revolution seems to have played a part, and this later translated into a French tax on monastic revenues. But anyway, our story takes us now to the French Abbey of Mont des Cats, which provides the origin of two of Belgium’s greatest breweries just over the border in West Flanders. In 1831, some monks from Mont des Cats crossed the border to found the Abbey of St Sixtus, Westvleteren, and started making beer. A bit later, the whole of Mont des Cats relocated temporarily to Watou and formed the “Refuge St Bernard” (named after St Bernard of Clairvaux). They made cheese. The monks then moved back to Mont des Cats in the 1930s, but the name stuck and the dairy remained.
Then, in 1945, the monks of Westvleteren decided that they no longer wished to sell their beer, so they licensed production to Evariste Deconinck, owner of the Refuge St Bernard. The head brewer of Westvleteren moved to St Bernardus (to give it its local name), and - drum roll - brought his yeast with him. (If you know your beer you will know how significant that bit of the story is). They started brewing beers which were St Sixtus / Westvleteren branded. This lasted until 1992, when the Westvleteren monks declined to renew the licence. The backdrop was the establishment of the “Authentic Trappist” label over the previous thirty years. The Belgian courts accepted the argument that to use the word “Trappist” on your beer, it had to have been produced actually within the confines of a Trappist monastery. St Bernardus, after a bit of a struggle, shrugged off this setback and continued under their own branding.
So now we have these two amazing beers - Trappist Westvleteren 12 and St Bernardus Abt 12 - generally held to be two of Belgium’s finest, and whose shared history causes them to be the cause of fascination as a pairing.
St Bernardus’s branding is a wonderful piece of chutzpah. There is no monk, Trappist or otherwise, anywhere to be seen at St Bernardus. But you might just think that there was - the name of the brewery, the names of the beers (“Pater”, “Prior”, “Abt”), and above all the happy cheery soul on their labels who just looks 100% like a monk. Under the stern pressure of the Trappist mafia, his skull cap has been removed and his robe is allegedly less monkish. But come on, we aren’t stupid…
This story has always fascinated me. So has the exclusivity of Westvleteren. You can’t buy it outside Belgium. You aren’t meant to be able to buy it anywhere except in crates by pre-order from the Abbey, and in the famous “In de Vrede” cafe opposite. The two bottles of the mighty Westvleteren 12 I have ever tasted have been bootleg, from one of the shops in Brussels that risks the wrath of the Trappists (which doubtless takes the form of very angry hand signals) by buying from the monastery and reselling. So once again, when a work trip took me into the vicinity of beer heaven (as it did in the USA back in 2022 - https://www.londonbiermeister.co.uk/blog/green-mountain-state-of-mind ), the destination of my next pilgrimage was clear. I finished my work in Brussels on a Friday afternoon and wended my way by train out west to Poperinge.
If you like your history, as I do, then you should definitely spend a few hours in Poperinge and hear its story. You need to go to Talbot House, the home from home for British troops in the First World War, and hear the story of the remarkable chaplain who ran it, the Rev Philip (“Tubby”) Clayton. Tubby, in complete disregard of King’s Regulations, welcomed officers and men alike to Talbot House and treated them the same, creating an atmosphere that helped them to forget the war for just a little while. “I am a comic kind of creature in officer’s kit”, wrote Tubby. “My job here is of the kind I more or less understand, i.e. being friendly to all comers, without any of the regimental business to bother me.” He then spent decades after the war continuing to nurture the Talbot House community all around the world.
There is also a note of poignancy in the Grote Markt with the statue of Eliane Cossey. Eliane was the youngest of three sisters who helped out in their mother’s bar. Her vivacity made her a great favourite with the soldiers. With her mother’s gaze preventing anything untoward, she served drinks, danced, and signed photos for the boys to carry into the trenches - numerous contemporary diaries mentioned her and how much she meant to them. She took on the soldiers’ nickname for her of “Ginger”. The statue records that she died together with her Belgian husband, in 1942 in London. Killed by a German bomb. What a waste.
Poperinge is also ideal if you want to supplement your brewery visits with some wonderful bars. I found a phenomenal choice of cask and bottled beer, including many from this region. On my first night I found the “Gast” on Gasthuisstraat. It bills itself as a “gezellig beer cafe for young and old”. So I thought I had better remind myself of what “gezellig” meant. Like the Danish “hygge”, it isn’t precisely translatable but has notes of “comfortable” and “cosy”. It is a concept that stayed with me for the entirety of my visit to the region, reinforced by every encounter in which the quiet but friendly locals patiently tolerated my rudimentary Flemish. (And yes, I do know that in discussing the concept the “Amsterdam” Ted Lasso episode got there first…)
But anyway, it was time to hire a bike and strike out into the Flemish countryside. First St Bernardus. I rather liked the fact that the journey was quite strenuous, up a steady hill and into a headwind - it all fitted with my clunking metaphor of religious devotion. I had booked the tour and, to be honest, I was disappointed. I had visions of being taken round by a master brewer and getting to ask questions, but it was entirely automated and a bit aimed at kids. It did tackle head on the whole rivalry with Westvleteren, in a quite nice way with some quotes from brewery workers (“Ours has more foam than theirs. Sometimes life is that simple”). Although they couldn’t resist getting in the boast that they were still using the original 1945 yeast, so actually Abt 12 was arguably more Westvleteren than Westvleteren. After the tour I went up to the much hyped “Bar Bernard” and found it deserted. I used my two tokens from the tour to taste small glasses of Prior and Abt - and obviously they were great but the atmosphere just wasn’t there. I drank up and cycled back to Poperinge.
The following day I headed north on my bike and it was with a real heart skip of excitement that I passed the road sign for Westvleteren and shortly afterwards found myself at the gates of the Abbey of St Sixtus. You couldn’t go in. I knew that in advance. The only way you get in is for a retreat, which involves praying in Flemish six times a day (and it isn’t even clear that you get the beer inside). I am not made of that stuff. I headed instead for “In de Vrede” - a huge cheerful space which was already doing great business with the locals at 1130 on a Sunday morning. Some people having coffee, others having already got stuck into the beer.
So I sat there and enjoyed, one after the other, the “Blond”, the “8” and gloriously the “12”, accompanied by a plate of Abbey cheese. It absolutely lived up to expectations. I think the atmosphere helped, but the beer is just stunning whichever way you look at it. I rounded it off with the “Coupe In de Vrede” - vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, honeycomb and a caramel-type sauce made with the “12”. Guaranteed non-calorific. At least I was on my bike.
In a final twist of just how stubborn the monks are, In de Vrede refused to sell me a mixed six pack of the three beers. So I had to buy a sixpack of “12”, which I just about managed to squeeze into my backpack. I am sure I will manage it at some point.
For completeness let me record the other beers that I consumed, because there were some beauties.
Liefmans (Oudenaarde) collab with Birrificio (Messina, Italy) fruity sour, 7.2%. This was the day’s suggestion at “Gast” . The barman looked at me and said “is sour OK?”. It was. I might not have thought to choose this, but it was absolutely beautiful.
Some Tripels - Cornet Oaked from Steenhuffel, just north of Brussels, and two locals in Kapittel Watou and Terrest
Finally, there was Paix Dieu, from the Caulier brewery in Peruwlez near Mons. A rarity in that it was originally designed by Cisterican nuns and only brewed at full moon. 10%, smooth, creamy, served in a massive bowl of a glass.. Wow!
So now back safe in England, complete with as many bottles as I was able to cram into my suitcase. This was just one tiny corner of Belgium and I mean to explore further. In the meantime, I plan to ignore completely the protestations of the monks that they are not in competition and stage a tasting to settle it for once and for all. Trappist Westvleteren 12 v St Bernardus Abt 12 v Trappistes Rochefort 10. Possibly with Paix Dieu as well to let the sisters fight it out. Let the games begin. Are you not entertained? Etc, etc