The Best Beer in the World

In August, Joe needed to go to Belgium for work, and before we left, we decided to check out some local breweries. A quick Google search revealed there was a brewery, Westvleteren, about an hour away selling the best beer in the world*; obviously we had to go.

The Saint Sixtus Monastery, home of Westvleteren Brewery
Vleteren, Belgium

Further research only piqued my interest more; the brewery is part of a functioning monastery. The monks brew the beer in small quantities, selling what they don’t consume to the flocked masses. Westvleteren is one of 6 trappist brewers in Belgium, and it hasn’t given in to the lure of capitalism.  Trappist denotes an order of monks that pride themselves on self-sufficiency. The monks brew beer for themselves and the community—excess is sold. They have not increased production since 1946; the monks "brew to be able to afford being monks". Chimay is sold in US supermarkets; Westmalle and St. Bernardus are available at US specialty stores; Westvleteren is only available at the monastery.

To taste the “best beer in the world”, you must make the trek to Vleteren, Belgium. Here, in the café/visitors center, you can order Westvleteren 12 by the glass. If you are interested in buying the beer by the bottle, there is a slightly more procedure to follow.

The road leading to Saint Sixtus Abbey
Vleteren, Belgium

The monks know their product is good, and they know people all over the world are clamoring for it. To deter people from buying it in mass quantities and reselling it, they’ve implemented a system that limits how much beer can be purchased at once, and how often it may be purchased. Beer may only be reserved once every 60 days, and you may only reserve 2 racks of 24 beers each. To reserve your rack, you must call the beer line at least 1 week in advance; don’t worry, they speak English. You’ll provide your license plate and choose a pick-up time, assuming of course they haven’t already sold out for that week. Keep in mind they are a religious organization, therefore they will be closed on Sundays and religious holidays, as well as any federal holidays in Belgium.  

If the reserved racks have all been claimed, or if you discovered the brewery a mere 48 hours before your intended visit like I did, there are other options available. Each day in the café, 6 packs are available for purchase. Of course, this is a long shot, and it requires driving out to the middle-of-nowhere Belgium without any assurances of availability. We went anyway.

In De Verde-the cafe/visitor's center of Westvleteren Brewery
Vleteren, Beligum

We arrived in the afternoon and joined the beer queue. This line was the closest we’ve come to experiencing a “Black Friday” phenomenon in Europe; it was still polite and orderly, despite the rare quantities for sale. It was a very tense line; all of us wondering if we would be among those lucky enough to obtain the elusive brew. Alas! It was not to be; they were sold out. But wait! A ray of hope! Westvleteren makes three beers: Blonde, 8, and 12. Blonde and 8 were still available; we purchased a 6 pack of each.

After buying our sixers and moving away from the throng still waiting their turn, we wandered outside. There are tables inside the café, but on such a beautiful day, the place to be was in the beer garden. We sat at one of the many picnic tables adorned with umbrellas and ordered a glass of 12 and of Blonde. We enjoyed our beers and gazed out at the farmland around us. This place really is in the middle of nowhere—only 1 lane roads provide access. As expected from a monastery, it’s very tranquil.

From left to right; the blonde, the 8 and the 12.
Vleteren, Belgium

Even if there are no racks or sixers to be had, you can still enjoy the 12 and its brothers by the glassful. Here’s some food (or drink) for thought as well; just because Blonde and 8 aren’t the best beer in the world, it doesn’t mean they aren’t good. They’re very, very tasty. The monks at Westvleteren are skilled brewmasters, and it’s worth the trip out there, even if all you take away is the memory of sitting in the sunshine sipping delicious beer.

*As chosen by beer advocate

Useful Links!

The Brewery at Saint Sixtus Monastery 

Current Beer Reservation Calendar

Wall Street Journal Article about the monks trying to remain cloistered

Why the monks brew in such small quantities

In De Verde, the cafe/visitor center adjacent to the monastery

Looking for Arches that aren’t Golden, Mysterious Buildings, and Rose Windows

While we have been in Europe, I’ve been trying to track down locations featured in my Grandpa’s photos. I do not have all the information about his time in service, but I do know that he was here in 1945. My Grandma found a little book detailing some of his locations and the action his unit saw, but it stops in April 1945 and I have pictures from September 1945. Grandpa took all the photos, and developed them himself–my mom actually found a letter from him to his aunt, apologizing for not writing sooner, as his spare time had been devoted to developing pictures. On some of the photos, he wrote the city and the date, but others were blank. I started with two easy ones, labeled Brussels and Paris.

                                                                   

Brussels 1945

Finding the building featured in the Brussels photograph proved to be quite a challenge. Google image searcher was not helpful. Neither was googling any combination of the words Brussels, 1945, WWII, history, photos, etc. Following several hours of non-fruitful internet combing, I just decided to start using google street-view to roam around the city. Now, before you picture me sitting at my computer digitally walking up and down the streets of Brussels, I had a plan. From studying the photograph, I learned some important information about the street pictured. First: the street pictured was flat–important because so many of the streets in Brussels are not. Second: both the road with the building and the road my Grandpa stood on, had streetcar tracks, and were wider than normal streets. Third: I was able to discern some of the features of the buildings lining the street, as well as letters on a sign–SAMY. I looked up streetcar routes in Brussels, and learned that they had changed a lot since 1945, and many had been paved over in the intervening years, so that lead was out. SAMY didn’t return any results either. I was left with wide flat streets. I found a couple possible buildings, but when I showed them to Joe, he did not think they were the right one. Even after all that searching, when we drove into Brussels, I had almost nothing to go on.

We were not paying attention, and had left the GPS on silent as we approached the city, so we missed out exit, and had to take an alternate route. This actually proved quite fortuitous. Driving in, I was checking every street, trying to see if any features jumped out at me, or if the building I was searching for lay at the end. We finally turned onto a long flat street, and at the end, there is was, the same building my grandfather had photographed 60 years earlier. The streetscape had drastically changed; nothing remained of the SAMY building or the intricate façade of the building on the left, but somehow the building in the center of the picture remained unchanged. The building was not labeled, and when we tried to go inside and get some information, it was empty and under construction, though most recently it seemed to have been a bank. As of this moment, I do not know the purpose or history of this building: it remains shrouded in mystery.

Brussels 2011

The Paris picture seemed easy; it was of an arch, so I assumed it was the Arc de Triomphe. Little did I know there were so many arches in Paris. By the time we reached the Louvre, we had already seen 4. I was getting a little uncertain about the arch in the photo when we started walking toward it, and the angles did not match up. However, as we moved closer, we realized that the arch had two sides, and my grandfather had taken his photo from the other side. Tiny heart attack averted, and arch photo snapped.

Paris 1945

Paris 2011

The final picture I decided to track down during this trip was a “new” photo. My mom has been away from work on medical leave, and found some time to scan more photos from my Grandpa. I used images.google.com to try to track down some of the more obvious pictures. One such a picture was of a rose window on a cathedral. To my untrained eye, this could any number of rose windows on any number of cathedrals in Europe. Many look very similar to each other, and an unlabeled, 60+ year old photograph of only a rose window seemed difficult to trace. However, google image searcher said it was most likely the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. I compared the photos myself and agreed with that assessment, and Notre Dame was added to our list. 

Gastronomic Establishments

This is how all the guide books refer to restaurants. I think it is the result of an interesting translation. I know the word, but I can’t say I have ever heard them used in context before our trip. We have eaten sausages, sauerkraut, and schnitzel in Germany, waffles in Belgium, crepes in France, and Swiss cheese in Switzerland. My favorite I think were the waffles, though during our week in Belgium, I found myself missing the bratwursts that had become a regular feature of our diet.

In Mons, two particular establishments stand out above the rest: the Indian place and steak on a rock. Sadly, I did not take note of their real names, but both places are located on the main plaza in Mons. The Indian place will be easier to locate, and well worth it. The staff speak English and you can order food to go, or stay and eat in the restaurant. I have done both, and I have not been disappointed by anything they served. The prices are also very reasonable.

Steak on a Rock is up the street from the tourist office and looks to be a run-of-the-mill bar, but I promise you, it is not. While they offer other fare, their main dish is raw meat served on a hot stone. This arrives at your table on a tray with salad, potatoes, and a dipping sauce: you tend to the cooking yourself. The meat is seasoned, but I highly recommend the pepper sauce. It’s delightfully spicy without alienating those who don’t like spicy things. And the meat is delicious. I can’t comment on the cooking, as you watch it yourself and are in control of the doneness and dryness. We order the mixed grill because it lets you taste a little bit of everything. In addition to the draw of the food, there is the beer. Dozens and dozens of beers to choose from, each in their own specific glass; I never had a repeat while I was there. A word of caution though, Belgian beers are usually stronger than American ones, and 1 beer in Belgium can have 2-3 times the potency of their counterparts in America.

We bought our Belgium waffles from a street vendor during the Christmas market. These waffles are vastly superior to the ones available in the states. It’s a different flavor and I’m not sure how to describe without borrowing from the Mad Hatter: they have more muchness. 

Mons

Mons, Belgium is where NATO has its SHAPE headquarters. This means, when Joe has to go to Belgium, we stay in the small town of Mons. We arrived at night, causing the place to look dark and a little forlorn. It is an old industrial town, and lacks some of the gothic splendor of the larger cities where we had been staying. Most of the buildings are constructed of brick, which is an unusual medium for European buildings. I will be the first to say that I misjudged it. My first impression was sadness, as if Mons was a town that time was not kind to, and then forgot, but I found my mistake the following morning.

It’s amazing what sunlight can do to improve the image of a place. While Joe was at work, I walked uphill into the town square. It was a hive of activity as workers prepared for the beginning of the Christmas market at the end of the week. Our hotel was maybe 100ft down one of the side streets off the square so it was easy to navigate around the town without getting lost. I wandered around and saw an interesting church under construction, and began to appreciate the differing style of architecture, as it gave quaintness to the tight streets.

I visited the tourist office and received a free guide book on the town and the surrounding area. In 2015, Mons will be a UNESCO Capital of Culture, and the tourism office is hard at work making sure the town is ready to receive an influx of visitors. Construction work is already underway, and many places were closed to undertake preparations for the event.

The guidebook did call my attention to the Castle Park. This sight was open(ish) and in the city, so I could easily walk to it. I asked him about it, but Joe had never been there, so I was off to explore this new territory on my own. I am convinced that I discovered the prettiest place in Mons.

Castle Park is situated around the belfry, which is famous on its own for being the only baroque belfry in Belgium. The belfry tower is easily discernible from anywhere in the city, and it rises up behind all the buildings on the square. To find my destination, I simply walked uphill, and kept the belfry in front of me. The entrance to the park is near a youth hostel, and is up a one way street. I was hesitant but climbed up this street too, and through the gate. It was open so I figured that if the park were closed I could at least use the open gate in my argument, The road led upward between two walls, so the view during the climb was unexceptional. It terminated under a stone building, and before me lay a beautiful park on top of the city. The sunlight at the summit was warming, and the park’s height provided wonderful vistas of Mons and the surrounding towns. I walked twice around the park, reluctant to leave, but it was lunch time, and I needed to be back at the hotel room. Normally, the belfry is open, and visitors can tour inside, and presumably, climb to the top, but this too was under construction, so I had to content myself with merely walking in the park.

The following day I brought Joe to witness it for himself. In warmer weather, I believe I will spend my mornings there while he works, happy just to be in such a pretty place. 

Carriageway Travels

Our GPS will occasionally call the highway the carriageway, and say things like, turn half-right and follow the parallel road. These directions can be a little confusing to follow, as the amount of roads in an area can make the directions ambiguous at best. We’ve spent a good deal of time traversing the carriageways in Southern Europe and there are great disparities between the rest stops.

Two particular examples come to mind as the best and (hopefully) the worst, in Belgium and France respectively. The others fall somewhere in the middle with no outstanding features which warrant your attention.

In France, I found myself in need of a restroom, so we pulled over at the next rest stop. It was little more than a bathroom with an area to park. The sign on the building indicated the water was not potable, and advised us not to drink it. Inside, the women’s room brought back memories of the old chicken coop on my Grandmother’s farm: stinky with years of feather and bird poop residue. The sink/counter area was crowded with trash, and the whole place had a grimy atmosphere. I approached a stall and opening the door found a hole in the ground, surrounded by a sloped metal area, which I assumed caused excrement to drain back to hole, much like a shower. Considering the squalor surrounding me, I was pleasantly surprised when I found toilet paper. A few moments into the proceedings, water began running across the metal floor to clean the hole in the ground. I said a silent prayer of thanks, as I had considered planting my feet where the water was now running, and I would not have been happy with non-potable, hole-rinsing water on my feet. Perhaps the worst thing about this bathroom was the knowledge that Joe had a real toilet to use. Maybe someone switched the signs? Men seem much more adapted to peeing in a hole than women.

In Belgium, we stopped for dinner at the rest stop that advertised its Pizza Hut. We were hungry and still not close to our destination, and as it was Sunday, there was no guarantee of anything being open when we did arrive. It was night, so we could not see the size of the building we approached, and were surprised when, shortly after entering, we had to ride an escalator. At the top was a very large and well kept dining area over the highway. It was designed like a ski chalet with a slopped roof and windows in the side. The bathrooms had numerous stalls and were clean: they even had a Dyson air jet hand drying machine–love those.

Guests had several options for food, including the Pizza Hut specials, or selecting items from the buffet line. Fresh fruit and vegetables were available, as were homemade desserts and salads. To drink, you could select from the usual line of beverages, or you could opt for some beer or wine. Joe and I felt that selling alcoholic beverages at a rest stop was a little odd, as everyone had to drive to get there, but they acted as though this were normal. The food was delicious and reasonably priced, and in short time we found ourselves back on the road.

I don’t think there is any way to predict the quality of your rest stop before arrival, but I recommend choosing one that has a restaurant, as they will most likely have actual toilets.