Beer: The Monarchy Münchhausen - A Tall Tale of Taste?

Münch·hau·sen (ˈmuenḵ-ˌhau̇-zən) 

 Karl Friedrich Hieronymous, Freiherr von (1720–1797), German soldier. As a retired cavalry officer Münchhausen acquired a reputation as a raconteur of preposterous stories about his adventures as a soldier, hunter, and sportsman. From 1781 to 1783 a collection of such tales was published, with authorship generally attributed to the baron. Only years later in 1824 was it revealed that the author of the English edition was Rudolph Erich Raspe (1737–1794).

Merriam-Webster

When I restarted blogging I decided that I wouldn't do individual beer posts, but here I am back at it again! Perhaps its an addiction... Anyway here we go...

In my March post on the Alltech Craft Brews & Food Fair I mentioned a visit to the Freigeist Bierkultur stand and how impressed I was by them, so when I spotted this beer in my not-so-very-local offie I grabbed one, as its style of label and even the bottle itself seemed similar to those I had sampled at the festival. The postage stamp-style label, which shows Baron Von Münchhausen astride a hop cone, combined with the blurb that said that this was a 4.8% abv strongly hopped and soured altbier meant I couldn't really resist buying one.

It turns out that this beer is brewed by the same brewer and in the same brewery - Vormann Brauerei in North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany - as those from Freigeist Bierkultur, albeit with a different partner. The Monarchy's Sebastian Sauer and Fritz Wülfing create historical beers with a twist, just like the example I had picked up.

A beer like this deserves company so I decided that it would suit an impromptu supper one night last week - a pretzel with real butter, strong Irish cheddar, combined with a few slices of smoked German ham. So I set the stage and got stuck in!

The first impression was of sour cola with a lingering malty, pleasant aftertaste. Carbonation was quite low, just leaving a tingle on the tongue like popping candy and left an almost wine-like mouthfeel. A bite of pretzel with its supporting cast created a salty-malty-smoky-lactic back drop to my next gulp and brought out a tea-like taste to the beer too. Now I was also getting a little funky farmyard - like a chicken coop - plus a little sweetness.

As the beer warmed up and I ate a little more, the subtle complexities of the beer shined through and I realised what a good decision I had made to have food with it, and maybe perhaps this type of food. I wonder if I had drank it on its own would I have liked it as much?

Not that that mattered, as I really did enjoy it although I didn't pick up on the heavy hopping and would have liked the sourness to shine through a little more. I am really looking forward to trying more from the range as well as picking up more of this one.

I'll keep my eyes peeled...

Beer: Kinnegar Swingletree II - Hopping Back...

Swingletree (ˈswɪŋɡəlˌtriː) 

Definition - noun

'a crossbar in a horse's harness to which the ends of the traces are attached,

also called: whippletree, (esp US) whiffletree' - Collins Dictionary

Last year I visited Donegal and enjoyed a trip to The Tap Room under Rathmullan House with its great pizzas and wonderful, local Kinnegar beers. At the time I wondered why they didn't brew a saison, a beer style that many associate with farmhouse brewers like Kinnegar.

Soon after I found out that they had brewed one and it would be at The Irish Craft Beer & Cider Festival, which I subsequently attended. Swingletree was there on tap as promised and my sketchy notes for that day read - 'Orval-like;lovely doggy smell and taste;bitter and gorgeous!' (Yes, yes I know Orval's not a saison...and that those notes are a little odd.)

I came across a bottled version recently named Swingletree II, which is obviously a reincarnation of that beer but with a lower abv - 5.8% versus 7%. Its jaunty labels and branding on a taller-than-normal-500ml bottle giving it an air of crooked elegance and making it stand out from others on the shelf of my local offie.

I drank this one on my deck last Saturday and took some notes again:
Sweetish, chewy chalk; gooseberry crumble and tea; warm spice and bitterness; dry and cleansing; deceptively easy to drink.

And as I sat there savouring and enjoying my Swingletree redux I thought back to last summer and The Tap Room, and how well this beer would go with one of those great pizzas.

Someday I'll really hop back there.

Meanwhile I've been studying plans on how to build a pizza oven in your back garden...

Recipe: Pretzel? Logic...

Food should be simple sometimes...

While contemplating what to have for lunch, I spotted a lone pretzel sitting in its bag beside the toaster. It was a leftover from a beer tasting night and was a tiny bit stale but I couldn't leave it there, as they are too nice to consign to the freezer for making stuffing - although great for that too.

I hate waste, especially in food, and love to combine a few stray, leftover ingredients together to make a meal. So out came some cheese, leftover pork, a little butter and my magic ingredient - caraway seed!


Poor caraway... sometimes mistaken for its cousins cumin and fennel and often just ignored on both the supermarket shelf and in the cupboard. I first came across it in any meaningful way in Uerige Braurieri in Düsseldorf, served with beer marinated Mainzer cheese and a rye roll with a a little butter. And once you've tasted caraway you will never mistake it for anything else. It's great with cheese or pork, as a pickling spice, or in bread.

Anyway, I'll revisit that in a future blog but for now it's back to lunch...

It was easy-peasy to make after that, slice the pretzel carefully to split it in two, scrape on some butter, put on some chopped pork, a few thin slices of cheese and finally sprinkle with the caraway seeds. 10 mins or so under the grill - carefully watched - and lunch is ready.

Served with a nice beer - and a blob of mustard - of course!

Keep it simple. It's logic really.

Travel: Dublin - To Market, To Market...

Dublin has recently become a bit of a draw for me.

This wasn't always the case.

There was a time when I only saw it as a noisy, dirty city filled with irritating people, most of whom walked too slow or talked too loud. It was the antitheses of where I was brought up in a quiet backwater, a no-man's land in Laois - often mistaken for parts of Kilkenny, Carlow and Kildare but rejected by all three.

But maybe the wisdom of age - it's certainly not my ever-decreasing tolerance - and the need to travel somewhere, anywhere and everywhere has altered my blinkered view of big cities. This wanderlust has certainly helped me look past the obvious flaws and faults of big cities and see what metropolitan living can offer. More importantly it has shown me that cities would not have their character without also having these issues that I class/classed as faults. Would Rome be as interesting and inviting without its litter and tourists? Would Milan be as stylish and enigmatic without its arrogant waiters and dodgy graffiti? Would Brussels be such an underrated city without its split personality and dog shit? (OK, maybe scratch that one..)

I suppose my point is that as you get older and your priorities change, how you see the world also changes. And so does what you want out of people and places. Nowadays I look at life in a quasi-selfish way where I can pick out what I like about cities that will make my live more interesting or enjoyable, and try to ignore what I hate. Certainly the rise of the 'The Good Beer Movement' and my embracing of it has had an enormous effect on how I see Dublin. Not too long ago there were only a very few bars selling something different in the country and most of those were in Dublin but over the last 5 years there has been an sharp increase in the number of these places, but the biggest concentration is still in the city. This has been driven by the Galway Bay group among others and it was the opening of a new bar of theirs that had me heading up to the city on this day.

Standing in the station in Carlow I stared at a sign telling me where I was, it seemed a little redundant as it's not the largest station in the world. Although it helpfully does point you in the direction of both Dublin and Kilkenny. My usual travelling companion Nige arrived soon after, as did the train, and we were on our way. In the right direction I now knew thanks to the map.

I have a need to sit facing the direction of travel so we ended up close to a gaggle of loud teenagers who made the train seem a lot louder than usual, and tested my aforementioned tolerance, so I was pretty distracted for most of the journey. After an extra stop in Sallins to let off a lady who missed her stop in Kildare (Fair play to Irish Rail!) we arrived into a very cloudy and rain pelted Heuston station where we crowded under the Luas shelter, then crammed ourselves into the tram and soon we were in the city centre. We have by now become creatures of habit on these trips so after our usual not-too-strong coffee and toasted ciabatta with mozzarella in La Corte at the Epicurean Food Hall we split up for a bit of shopping. I made my way, using as much rain cover as possible, to Chapters book shop for a mooch through their second-hand section and a read on their comfy seating while trying to act neither shifty or pompous. I possibly failed on both counts.

Pretty soon it was time for a beer.

The Black Sheep was closed when I got there. Google had assured me it opened at 10.30 am but it was now 11.55 am and the doors were locked. I loitered under the awning and consulted the bar's own site where it informed me it would open at midday - I'd been led astray by Google yet again. Nige arrived as I was re-researching and together we waited, shivering in the cold breeze that was being funnelled down the street. The doors opened soon enough and after waiting a few minutes - for the sake of respectability - we made our way inside. We looked at the taps and then studied the beer list over the bar just in case we had missed something, then checked out the cask beers before I decided on Galway Bay's own Dortmunder Lager and sat down. Nige was being his usual indecisive self but he eventually settled for a Siren 7 Seas BIPA and joined me. As we chatted about the bar itself and our purchases people started to trickle in and within half an hour the place had a healthy buzz. I like The Black Sheep. I like how bright it is due to its street position, I like its food and also the slight quirky nature of the bar, its clever spin-the-dial-for-beer chalkboard, its board games and its general uniqueness. Most of all I like their beer selection.

The Dortmunder tasted of those nice malted milk biscuits but with a hint of cider vinegar that suited it, and as it warmed up bags of caramel toffee came through. It was a good choice for my first of the day. Nige's 7 Seas tasted as bitter soot would - I guess - with a good deal of lime infused dark chocolate thrown in for good measure. It was excellent. We were tempted to have another here but I had a date with a dark stranger that appears only once a year, and afterwards we needed to make it to the far side of Christchurch and on towards Stoneybatter  according to my mental travel itinerary.

We trudged southward in the rain as the city got busier and everyone jostled for the rain-protected lea of the tall buildings along our route. Crossing O'Connell Bridge was a bit of a nightmare as the rain and wind pelted us with drops that zinged any stray exposed areas of skin, but pretty soon we were heading past Trinity College and nearing our next destination.

Porterhouse Central can get a little touristy and busy for me but I do like the place. I like the long bar, general layout, and décor. The staff are always busy and efficient, and they were serving Chocolate Truffle Stout. I needed my yearly fix and this is another reasons why we had decided to head up here today. It tasted a little different to last years I thought, slightly more bitter but still with that creamy truffle taste and cloying quality that not everyone might appreciate. It was also served a little cold I thought but then again I like my stouts served cool not cold. They were showing a match on a humongous screen, which annoyed me a little but others seemed engrossed in it. I thought about pointing at Porterhouse's barley wine collaboration with Joe Eliot and asking for a glass of it, at which point they would hopefully say, 'Louder?' and I would say, 'A GLASS OF THE BARLEY WINE PLEASE!'
I resisted.

We drank up a little quicker than I would have liked and having split up again from Nige I headed west towards the main reason for our trip. The rain was easing a little as I passed the relocated Molly Malone statue and onwards to Dame Street. I always find it difficult to walk in cities, as I tend to be a fast walker and find the stop start motion of having to weave around others affects my mindset and mood. As I did the two-step around tourists and locals it reminded of something I read or heard once about living in the city, something about the need to take big steps and little steps... maybe it was a comment about life in general.

I was beginning to pick up speed rounding Christ Church Cathedral when I was accosted by a group of plastic-poncho wearing American ladies who politely asked me how to get 'to the shopping on Ger-RAF-ton street' I duly obliged by pointing them in the right direction, only to turn around and find a small orderly queue of similarly dressed tourists waiting patiently for directions to St. Patrick's Cathedral, Trinity College and 'The Big Spike Thing on the Main Street'. I got all the groups heading in the right direction (I think!) and they moved off with their plastic coverings flapping in the wind. (I have a vague recollection of this direction giving incident happening to someone in a travel book too, was it Bill Bryson) Continuing on I rounded the cathedral and headed down High Street (I never knew there was a High Street in Dublin.) to where I could see a haloed beer glass on a sign in the distance.

The Beer Market is a new venture from the Galway group who also own The Black Sheep, Brew Dock, Against the Grain and a couple of other of my favourite establishments in the city. So when I heard that they were opening a new bar with 20 ever-rotating taps I felt obliged to visit and check them out. Rumour had it they were also serving pies from The Pieman in Templebar, which for me was a deal clincher. The grey-fronted building could be a little lost on the street if not for the big, gold window graphic shouting out the bar's name. Even still, I got the feeling that you needed to know where you were going to find this spot. Inside the bar is split into a few levels, sparsely but tastily decorated with trendy graphics and a fresh look - I could smell the paint still.

It was quiet at the bar itself with just a couple of seats taken but I plonked my bag and jacket at a long, high table with ice bucket insert for - I presume - the selection of 750ml bottles that were included in the bottle list on one wall. The draught line-up was on two separate chalkboards over the bar. Most of the beers are served as a 330ml size that I find to be the Goldilocks size for a beer ticker. There were only 18 beers on but I didn't feel short changed, as I had only heard of a few and had only tasted a couple before. But I was disappointed to see that the Founders Blushing Monk had already gone - I had spotted it being tweeted the previous day - but consoled myself by looking at the rest of the list. I would have liked to see the country of origin and style listed as well as the name and the abv but I decided on a Thornbridge Charlie Brown while I Googled some of the beers listed to get a handle on them.

Sitting down at the table I felt something was out of place. I'm not sure whether the table was too short, the stools too high or my body is oddly proportioned but I couldn't get comfortable and opted instead for a spot at the bar while I waited for Nige, perused the list and tasted my beer. My Charlie Brown had a pleasant weak cola flavour with a hint of peanut and a dash of salt -the peanut was only evident once you knew it was there. Still I like Brown Ale and rarely get them so I enjoyed it.

Behind the bar I spotted a few beer books and a row of the presently stocked beers. I was happy to see Orval - one of my all time favourite beers - sitting between all the new bottles. The only thing that seemed out of place at the bar was the pie cooker, which sits right in plain view and jars the senses a little in such a cool bar. The place was pretty busy  and the clientèle seemed very mixed from bearded, man-bunned, twenty-something year olds to couples out for a drink or two, and the - er - odd middle-aged, bearded, fogey showing too much interest in the beers and décor while taking notes in a pad and the odd photograph. But it was a good mix, all very well looked after by the bar staff, who dealt with those with a severe interest in the beers to those who wanted something 'a bit like Franciscan Well Red' with equal regard and courtesy. Tasters were given of the recommended beers to see if the suggestions suited their palates and most seemed happy.

I was getting a bit peckish at this stage and with no sign of Nige I decided to try one of the pies on offer. I ordered the sweet potato and feta one, as I felt it wouldn't affect my tastebuds too much and plumped for an Edge Padrino porter to go with it. The pie was excellent, although it was served in a takeaway-style cardboard box with wooden utensils - that strangely always put my teeth on edge - having been reheated in that oven. In my book the crust of a pie has to be as good as the filling and this one was, it had a nice crunch and had an actual taste to it - a rarity in pies. The filling was a nice bitter-sweet balance with a small kick of chilli. My porter was excellent too, dark chocolate and vanilla with a mango and resinous lychee aftertaste that hung around just long enough on the palate. A nice combination.

Nige wandered in soon afterwards and we starting getting through that list above the bar. Thornbridge Bamberg, a bock, was like excellent smoky barley sugar sweets, the smoke lingering on the tongue for ages afterwards. Edge Hoptimista tasted of bitter burnt orange and gorgeous resiny pine. Siren Dippy & The Equinox had that lovely(!) cat pee taste I've gotten from their beers before with added grapefruit for good measure.

We got talking to the bar manager and I happened to mention that I was a little cross that I'd missed the Blushing Monk... he went to a tap a pulled about a half a glass for me that was left in the not-yet-changed keg and then went downstairs, returned quickly and did some magic to produce another half glass for Nige. Now that's what call you call customer service! The Monk itself was a dry, sugary and tart, like their Rübæus on steroids.

I know I've said it before but places like this are not just about the beer they are about the people on both sides of the bar, about the atmosphere, the music, the food and yes also the beer. You need to be made to feel comfortable and at ease, and this bar did that.

For my last drink there I went for the most expensive - Beerd Crowbar, an imperial stout which tasted of turf and burning tyres or perhaps an ultra-smoky ham, with a bit of citrus hop added for good measure. A 'wow' beer that finished our stay here off to perfection. We said our goodbyes to the bar people and headed out, but we'll be back and that's the sign of a good bar - that you vow to return soon.


We crossed the Liffey and heading towards Stoneybatter to our last stop, L. Mulligan Grocer. We hadn't been in there in a while but it hadn't changed much. It was busy but welcoming and the attentive, knowledgeable and magnificently coiffured and bearded bar staff looked after us as soon as we sat at the bar, serving up a Csupor Thermostout, a sweet but low bodied coffee flavoured effort and the  almost-trademark-infringing Hello! My Name Is Sudan from the same brewery. This had a lovely bitter grapefruit/lemon tartness with a little bit of cream cracker aftertaste. Mulligans is quite the foody place and was full of happy looking diners. The buzz and hum of voices, plus glasses and cutlery clinking tempted us to consider staying longer, as it felt like a place we could spend the night. But our train was beckoning so after a swift glass of Blacks KPI on cask to end the day,  we tottered to the station, just stopping to get a takeaway coffee and a free chocky in the Butler's Coffee kiosk on the way to the our chariot home.

We spent the journey back talking about all the places we didn't get to...

And that list was long, and getting longer - we'll be back to Dublin soon, with reinforcements hopefully. I'm getting woefully fond of the place.

Travel: De Garre, Bruges, Belgium - Tripels and Doilies

We got the train without any fuss and we - me and my travelling companions Pete and Nige - were soon whizzing our way into Brussels main station where we would change for Bruges. The ubiquitous suburban rail line graffiti was plastered on every available wall but it somehow felt fresher and more colourful than usual and helped to brighten the drab building on our short hop into the city. We had a little time to wait here so we decided to get a bite to eat as Nige was getting hungry and I needed my morning coffee to stave of my irritability. He went mooching around the pannini in a café, asking in English about Italian food in a place ran by French speaking Chinese people. It was an accident waiting to happen and sure enough when we sat down, vegetarian Nige took a bite from his sandwich and exposed a nice layer of ham. Instead of bringing it back, he threw it disgustedly back down on his plate and grumble about it while drinking his coffee, which wasn't very good either he thought. We caught the train to Bruges without further mishap and we were soon heading northwest on a eerily near-empty train, over the flat, pretty-but-boringish landscape of Flanders through showers of rain, just ourselves and a few other tourists for company.

            

In Bruges I knew we would have the usual time-wasteful argument about whether to take a taxi, bus or walk to the hotel, but this time I had a plan. As soon as we exited the doors of the station I walked straight and purposely towards the pedestrian crossing that leads into the town.

'Where are you going?' Nige asked.

'We're walking,' I said, as I kept moving.

'But it could be a long walk. Perhaps we should get a bus?'

'No, we're walking.'

'How far is it?' Pete chimed in.

 'About fifteen minutes. We're walking,' I said again, not stopping or giving them a chance to argue with me to any great degree. We were near the crossing by now.

'We got the bus last time,' Nige whined as Pete shrugged and kept pace with me.

'Well we're walking this time. I know the way.'

The rain had cleared off and it was a nice morning and secretly, I was only half sure of the way and hoped my sense of direction wouldn't desert me. I was also unsure of how long it would actually take but I felt that the only way to deal with the usual faffing we tended to do when we reached a train station was to seize the day, keep my head down and keep walking.

We walked along a canal and past the Minnewater, all the while listening to the constant grumbles of the doubting, untrusting and irritable Nige, as he trailed after Pete and myself. Luckily, after a few more twists and turns we arrived at our hotel. It had taken twenty minutes but it had saved half an hour of discussion and waiting at the station. As usual, we quickly cleaned up and changed, eager for our first beer of the trip.

 

And I knew just the place.

           

De Garre is not the sort of place you would stumble upon by accident, it's more of a destination you need you seek out. Even though I possessed directions on where to find the place we still nearly missed the narrow side street on which it sits. We had left the hotel and walked up to the Belfort, the bell tower that sits on the Markt, the main square of the city, and headed towards the Burg, which is the other square in the very centre of the city. We were eager to reach our first watering hole so we just glanced at the many fine buildings we passed, promising to return later for a proper look around. Halfway along the street that connects these two squares and just visible up the narrowest of alleys, we glimpsed the sign and a small flight of worn steps leading up to a door.

To say we were anxious to get our first drink was an understatement. We had done a lot more research for this trip than any of the others. There are load of bars in Bruges selling hundreds of different beers so we didn't want to be wasting time looking at maps and menus deciding where to go and what to drink when we got here. We had only two nights in the city and then one in Brussels, and with a good degree of sight-seeing also on the agenda time was a precious commodity. I had narrowed down the bars to a wish-list of around ten or so and hoped to visit at least five depending on how we got on in the various places. It's all well and good making list and planning ahead but until you actually enter the bar, sit down and take in the atmosphere you’re really not sure if it's your kind of place.

But De Garre (best pronounced while clearing your throat and sounding like a pirate I think) was our kind of place. As soon as we passed through the doorway we knew it would be somewhere we would have at least one or two beers. It is an agreeably old-fashioned place with a tiled floor, age-darkened timbers and brick walls. Old paintings hang on the walls and apart from the very full room we were now in, a stairs led up to another level that was just being opened up as we entered. Eager to soak in the atmosphere we sat down at the only free table and had a better look around. Good humour seemed to fill the room and there was no question of us being looked on as interlopers or trespassers here. From the language and accents there seemed to be a mix of locals and tourists, I caught American and English voices mingling with the lilting guttural language of the locals. It felt more like the front room of someone's house than a pub, apart from the long bar against the far wall behind which stood a happy looking barman, polishing glasses.

The house beer and any other draught beer that De Garre stocked were written on paper doilies that were stuck with thumb tacks over the bar. We decided to first order the house brew, Tripel van der Garre (brewed by Brouwerij Van Steenberge), so that we would have time to study the beer menu as we drank.  There was some common ground with beers we all appreciated but in general, Nige and I preferred the stronger, more flavoursome beers while Pete liked something a little milder taste-wise. The house beer turned out to be a creamy, mild brew that was not as overpowering as tripels could be. It had a light spicy-fruity aftertaste that hung around on your palate and suited the complimentary cheese that we were also munching. Any pub that gives me food - even just cheese - with my beer goes up automatically one notch in my estimation. The beer was served in a branded glass - naturally as we're in Belgium - on a paper doily and a wooden tray. All of this added to the front room ambience we already felt.

From previous experience I knew that I liked roasty stouts or any beer with a good dose of bittering hops and I had with me a list of some of the beers I had hoped would appear on the beer menus of the bars we wished to visit. Scanning the menu I spotted Brasserie Ellezelloise's Hercule, which appeared on my list with an asterisk beside it. I couldn't remember why I had placed the mark there but presumed it was because it had gotten good reviews somewhere. Although it was a little high in alcohol for this early in the day, especially after the tripel, I decided to go for it anyway, worried about not seeing it elsewhere and unsure about how many more we would drink here.

So as soon as we had finished out tripels and our cheese, we beckoned our barman and proceeded to order our next round. I ordered the Hercule, Nige went for a Hopus and Pete for a Guillotine, as he liked the name.

Our beers arrived, mine served from a swing-top bottle and in a beer tankard. Pete's was served in a standard, branded glass. Nige's came with two glasses, a tall elegant one into which the barman poured almost all of the beer and a small shot glass into which he poured the yeasty sediment that remains in the bottom of bottle conditioned beers. This presentation was a wonderful ceremony in itself, and something we hadn't come across before.

Mine tasted of treacle and burnt toffee with a gorgeous peaty smell that rose from the glass each time I went to take a sip. I stole a sip of Nige's Hopus - brewed by Brasserie Lefèbvre - and discovered that it certainly lived up to its name with a smooth hop taste that was not overpowering. Pete's Guillotine looked good too and the bottle seemed strangely familiar. On closer inspection it was brewed but the Huyghe Brewery in Melle near Ghent, who also brew Delerium Tremens. I asked Pete what he thought of it and he replied that it was good but had 'lost its head quite quickly' to which I was about to respond when I saw his grin appear and the penny dropped.

With the upstairs area now quite busy too, the atmosphere was buzzing as we drank our beers and relaxed into the place. Like making yourself comfortable in an old worn armchair, we felt cosy and content, helped by the alcohol that was now running through our systems. There were two barmen and a barwoman now serving, to cope with the extra people who were arriving. Some had to leave, as there is a no-standing rule here. If you don't get a seat, you don't get a drink.

We decided to get one last drink before we left, I choose a Struise's Pannepot 2007, Pete went for a St Bernardus Pater 6 and Nige a  Floreffe Prima Melior. They were served with exaggerated swagger and aplomb by our new waiter who held glass and tray at an angle while he poured the beers and presented them to us with a large amount of theatrics. I can only presume he's an actor and does waitering I his spare time. All the beers were great, as expected, with my own reminding me of the fizzy cola cube sweets of my childhood albeit with a boozy, complex, sherry-like kick.

By now we were getting pretty toasty as the alcohol contents of the beers we had chosen were pretty high so after yet another discussion about how great the place was we drank up, paid our bill and wobbled down the steps to get some fresh air, De Garre having jumped quickly into my top five European bars.

The streets were getting quite busy now as the tour buses had spewed hoards of tourist from all over the globe into the city. Bruges is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Europe for Asian and American travelers - not to mention those from Europe - who come here to experience a city whose buildings and architecture is seemingly untouched for hundreds of years.

Appearances can be deceptive, as they say, and never more so than here in Bruges. To be sure, the city is as old as it looks but much of it has been heavily restored. Many of the building quite recently. As almost every guidebook will tell you, Bruges became a backwater in the 1520s when a route to the sea silted up and left the once commercial hub lost its access to major trade routes. This and some political upheaval meant that Bruges was pretty much deserted by commercial enterprise of any sort for centuries even though canals and access to the sea was re-established relatively quickly.

There is no doubt that the city owes a lot of its charm to the fact that the buildings were preserved because the owners couldn't afford to pull them down and rebuild them in a modern style as happened in other places in Belgium and indeed Europe. The other reason why there are so many 'old' building is because they were rebuilt to look so by the British - but that's a story for another day I think...

Liam K

Recipe: Bacon Jam with Dungarvan Black Rock Stout

I'm always a bit of a sucker for chutneys, preserves and pickles, or in fact almost anything that comes in a jar, and last week I stumbled across something labelled 'Bacon Jam'. Amazingly I hadn't come across this concept before, which is strange given my love of piggy products and...well jam...

I bought it out of curiosity and it was certainly nice but not really to my taste - not sweet enough, or bacony enough for that matter - so I decided I should make make my own. I came across a few recipes floating around the internet but none that really suited what I wanted to do so I decided to start pretty much from scratch, using a caramelised onion base.

One or two recipes I came across mentioned adding coffee or spirits but neither appealed to me, although the idea of using a bitterish chocolate to contrast the sweetness did and and that combined with the need for a cooking liquor meant a good stout came to mind - hence my use of Dungarvan's Black Rock. Along with O'Hara's stouts, I've always had a soft spot for this beer. It's full bodied and has the cocoa flavour I wanted to add so it seemed to make sense.

Many recipes suggest sliced bacon, chopped and fried but I want a more shredded texture, hence my use of a piece of streaky bacon, slow cooked. Go for good bacon, I use a local craft butcher for most of my meats as they seem to have the quality right. (Having said that use whoever you like, 'craft' doesn't always been quality as we know, and it's getting to be a word that's a little over used these days.)



So, here we go!

Ingredients:
1 kg Streaky Bacon - unsliced
1/4 cup Chorizo - finely chopped
2 large Onions - finely chopped
2 cloves Garlic - minced
1/4 cup Cider Vinegar
1/4 cup Balsamic Vinegar
1 cup Dark Brown Sugar
2 tbsp Honey
1 cup Dungarvan Black Rock Stout
1/2 tsp Black Pepper
1 tsp Smoked Paprika
1/4 tsp Chilli Powder
1/2 tsp Chinese 5 Spice
Salt to taste


Method:

• Simmer the bacon for 30 mins in a saucepan and then roast on a rack in the oven at 150C for 90 mins. When cooked leave aside under tinfoil to rest and cool a little
• Fry chorizo in a large saucepan until a little crispy then remove - leaving the fat in the pan - and set aside
• Fry onions on medium-low in the chorizo fat until softened but not brown, add garlic for the last couple of mins
• Deglaze the saucepan with the stout, add all of the other ingredients and simmer for 20 mins
• Shred and chop the bacon removing as much fat as possible
• Add bacon and chorizo to the saucepan and mix well (now is the time to adjust any of the spices to suit your taste), reduce to a dryish consistency - stirring constantly near the end - until most of the liquid has boiled off
• Allow to cool then pulse in a food processor to the desired texture but not too fine
• The jam should keep for a couple of weeks (If it lasts that long!) in jars in the fridge but use common sense when storing

I love it, it's probably one of the best things I've made recently. It's great just spread on crackers or toast, and works well with most cheeses, especially goat's or a strong cheddar. Nice on burgers or on hot dogs too, or great spread on bread with good bangers for the ultimate sausage butty! I think it might be nice with chocolate too but haven't experiment yet...

Pairs up well with good stouts like Dungarvan and also with sweet Belgian-style tripels or malty red ales.

Adapt as you wish but give me a little credit if reposting!

Enjoy.
Liam

Alltech Craft Brews & Food Fair 2015 - Beer Heaven/Beer Hell?

I've always thought that there's a fine line between heaven and hell. Not in a religious sense of course but in how we use those words in our not-so-normal lives. Family can be both, work can be both and life itself can switch from one to the other in the blink of an eye.

Beer festivals - especially big, well planned and well executed ones - can be like that, as the elation you feel when you walk through the doors is quickly tempered by the realisation that your limited time there combined with your poor palate being bombarded by beer means you will never, never be able to taste all the beers you want to.

Call me a pessimist but that makes me sad - in reality some times the glass is half empty and sometimes it's half full but I firmly believe that it's more often a case of the glass being the wrong size. A philosophical discussion for another day perhaps...

The day had started OK, or better than OK in reality. I had won tickets to the festival and had managed to get €5 off the bus fare by signing up to some loyalty scheme they bus company had introduced. Little did they know that my ongoing loyalty would be an issue, as I hated travelling by bus and was only doing so today because Irish Rail had decided to feck up my day by bussing people from Athy to Dublin and back in order to make rail improvements in Hazelhatch, allegedly. This was pointless for me, coming from Carlow, hence my getting a bus all the way there. And so I was up a little in monetary terms but the knowledge that my bladder would be playing chicken with time on the trip back down from Dublin filled me with dread. (Why don't all intercity buses have toilets on them?)

But as I sat at the bar in Brew Dock opposite Busáras - 10 minutes and a packet of ready-salted crisps - after stepping from the bus, with a Beavertown Holy Cowbell in front of me that tasted of dense and sweetish-sooty spiced black cardamom, I decided to put the thoughts of the return journey to the back of my mind. Anyway, I had a plan to be as dehydrated as possible for the return journey in order to avoid the ignominy of peeing into a bottle on the bus. I always place personal embarrassment before my health, I think it might be a man thing...

I also got to sample the excellent Siren Soundwave in Brew Dock - tasting of cat pee on grapefruit in a glass, but in a nice way - before heading down the bright, windy streets of Dublin to the Convention Centre where the festival was being held.

Once inside the venue with an 'Eco' (read plastic) glass and a few vouchers in hand, I wandered about in a daze, and it was then I came to the heaven/hell conclusion once more, that I would not be able to try all the beers here - not even close, even with a couple of friends in tow. So as I sipped on a sour, tart, lemonish, medicinally-cleansing Beavertown Londonerweiss I formulated a plan to only try the beers I probably wouldn't be able to get at any other time or at any other festival. Unfortunately that meant leaving out most of the Irish breweries, as I knew I'd pick up most of their beers during the rest of the year either locally in offies, or on other beer or food related excursions.

My first proper stop was at the stand of the Hungarian outfit Legenda Sörfőzde and I was very impressed by the range on offer. The brewer(?) took his time to explain the beers and although there might have been a little bit of info lost in translation it was clear that there was passion and innovation aplenty in the brewery, not to mention some really tasty beers; Bazooka a smoked rye beer - like liquidised smoky ham with a sweet glaze; Olaszházi Meggysör Kriek - quite dry but with glacé cherries and a little Christmas pudding; Pony amber ale - dryish too with the tropical fruit flavours of five American hops and loads of body; Horror - an alcoholic Belgian TIPA that tasted of lychees and coffee somehow; Brettannia Sour Ale - those sweet cigarettes from my youth and cider vinegar in a strangely pleasant blend. I can only assume that inventive brewing is at the fore in Hungary at the moment. Hopfanatic's Fekete Erdő, a forest fruited porter reinforced this to me when I tried it later, a more subtle but equally good beer from the same country.

Next stop was Brauerei Gusswerk an award winning brewery near Salzburg in Austria brewing organic beers in a wide range of styles. Black Betty tasted of mild but bitter milk chocolate with some sort of a herby after-taste I couldn't place; Die Schwarze Kuh is an imperial stout that tasted like a bitter cocoa brandy if such a drink existed; the wonderfully named Horny Betty came across to me as spiced-up Belgian tripel. All were very nice and I made a mental note to return to get a mixed takeaway pack - but forgot to do so!

After a quick stop at Tuatara to try their pleasant Ardennes blonde ale and a gorgeously full bodied Bertinchamps next door it was time for food.

I've always had a fondness for pies with beer so I Skoffed a pulled pork pie, which was very tasty but perhaps was a little heavy on the tomato sauce for my palate, also I would have preferred mash to salad, but then again I'd rarely be happy...
Somewhere to sit apart from the floor would have been nice too but I can appreciate that seating would take up too much space and would require extra staff with cattle prods to keep people moving. Perhaps more tables to stand at might be the answer...

Appetites sorted and eager for a palate cleanser we spotted Rye River's stand close by and decided to have a look. Sitting among their usual brands were a row of chalk written signs over taps. My notes failed me here but I can remember that the low alcohol Berliner Weisse was excellent, the Brown Ale - a much underbrewed style - tasted sublime, and the double IPA was ridiculously smooth and drinkable. I get the feeling they brewed these to prove to a few people that yes they can brew tricky beers if need be but that their core focus was beer for the masses. For whatever reason, I hope they brew these again as they are certainly beers I would buy.... hopefully they were testing the market for a premium brand to add to their stable.

Next we found Lagunitas, Thornbridge and Founders all lurking together on one of the side walls and had to pay our dues. Lagunitas Cappuccino Stout was exactly as it sounded - only better - and as we talked to the guy behind the tap I happened to mention Thornbridge Jaipur X and how I had hoped it would be here. Suddenly a bottle was produced, opened and shared with us! It was fantastic with a heavy hit of alcohol balanced with toasted orange peel and a lovely dry finish.

After a coffee/water/toilet break (ever mindful of my dehydration plan for the bus) and a sit down in the atrium we went seeked out Black's Model T stout, which was deliciously smooth with the usual-for-stout coffee and chocolate taste and Hi-Viz, which zinged the taste buds with grape-and-other-fruit bitterness.

At this point my notes were getting sketchy and my palate tired. Ever mindful of the bus journey home, I knew I was nearing my limit so headed for one of the breweries we had been tipped off about earlier.

Freigeist Bierkultur seem to be a bit of an enigma, even as I try to research them now I keep coming up with dead ends and a Facebook page that states; 'Freigeist is the experimental offshoot of Cologne's revolutionary small brewery, Braustelle. Here we strive to break the chains of industrial brewing by reviving and updating, Germany's unique, historical beer styles.'

No matter as their beer itself does the talking and Geisterzug Rhubarb Gose has a lot to say. It's a savoury rhubarb, spicy, herby, sourish glorious beer. A complex beauty that just might have edged it to my favourite beer of the festival, or at least made it into the top 3. This was followed by a smoked Alt beer whose name I never noted, but I wrote the words ' Bitter, Fruit, Smoke' in my notebook. It was superb too if not as memorable as the Rhubarb Gose, which is more a testament to the former's quality that the latter's shortcomings. Inwardly I cursed not coming here earlier to try more of the range and vowed to try and find them in this country.

I finished the festival with a Beavertown Moose Fang that tasted bitter and coal-like but in a good way, and said good bye to Alltech and a few new found friends, both liquid and flesh. We made our way back towards Brew Dock for a perhaps-unwise last beer before the bus and I couldn't help but feel that this was the best beer festival I had ever been to to date. It was so well run, the selection of breweries and beer was phenomenal, but more than that it was that edge of professionalism as soon as you walk in the door that makes a festival like this something special. Most importantly I really enjoyed it, which is the key thing really of course, or all the rest counts for nothing!

Perhaps they'll do two a year? How about a winter and a summer festival Alltech?

One of my favourite Irish stouts Galway Brewing Buried at Sea wasn't on in Brew Dock so I had the Stormy Port porter instead, and after a last minute toilet dash we boarded the bus for home.

By the way, my fears for the journey home were unfounded, I slept most of the way, dreaming of Rhubarb Gose...

Great Day!

(Thanks to John K. for heaven/hell title.)