Postscript: A Round Trip Hermeneutic

Michael Eder, whom I've mentioned before, speaks perfect English. There are, inevitably, the bizarre translations that all Germans seem to use when speaking English--"in former times" instead of "in the past" or "previously;" substituting "as" for "the" in sentences like "The slower you go, the later we'll be;" and the curious mix-up of "whatever" and "whatsoever." But his English is so near perfect that he can joke about Facebook applications, teach other foreigners slang, and dish out American-style sarcasm at the drop of a dime. He even persuaded over twenty native English speakers to refer to our European Study Tour as "the Round Trip."

Since my earlier summaries of the Round Trip were mainly plot driven, I thought it only appropriate to add one final interpretive post to the Brew School Compendium. Call it meta-critical or self-reflective or whatsoever: here are some thoughts on the lessons we learned, the beers we tasted, and what the Round Trip meant to us, newly minted graduates.

1) After two weeks and over twenty brewery tours, we are as well trained to lead tours as breweries as to brew the beer.

2) Belgium is, undoubtedly, the greatest beer drinking country on earth. I will spend much of 2010 figuring out how to get back there and am already searching for excited, able-bodied companions who want to bike, trek, blog and drink their way through the Ardennes. There are roughly 150 breweries in the country. At a rate of 5 a day, we can scour the whole place in a month. Any takers?

3) Not all "big" breweries are the same, nor are their beers. Siebel pushes hard for its craft beer loving students to appreciate the art, science, and contributions of the world's largest breweries, and visiting places like Bofferding, Rothaus, Stiegl, and Bavaria proved that big breweries do make better beer than "connoisseurs" give them credit for. There are, of course, several breweries in the world that aspire to a brewerless future. They are soulless.

4) Back to Belgium: there is an emergent style that my classmates and I "discovered" (though Tim Webb argues for it in his guide to Belgian beer as well) that is unlike anything I've seen in the US. What Webb calls the "hoppy blonde" seems to me a super bitter, strong blond ale. I personally prefer "Belgian bitter," because its hoppiness is entirely that--there is virtually no hop aroma or character, but there is a neverending tongue-bruising bitterness that helps hide the high alcohol content of these otherwise golden beers. De Ranke XX Bitter, Taras Boulba from Brasserie de la Senne, and La Rulles Estivale are some of the better examples I came across. It will be interesting to try and recreate this style, and I wonder if something so bitter has potential in the US market.

5) When we first met Eder, he told us that there is a second law in European beer culture: the Schweinheitsgebot. Despite the training I underwent at the taco truck near Joey Bosworth and Chris MacLeod's house all summer, I ate more pork in volume and body parts than I ever expected or wanted to. Beer and pork pair beautifully together, and every brewery and supplier we visited honored us with their best food and drink, but I think that for the next few months, I'll experiment with beer and food pairings that don't involve swine.

6) On a two week bus trip across Europe from brewery to brewery, the person you sit next to matters. Thank God for John Dykstra.


In the spirit of lists, how about an important one: what were the best beers you tasted in Europe, Ben? Here are the top ten beers and the moments I was lucky enough to have them:

1) Cantillon Iris--a dry-hopped gueuze that is not only the best beer I had in Europe; it's one of the two or three best beers I've ever had period. Occasionally available in the US. Katie Kern and I got to share it with Troy Kilpatrick, a wandering Australian that Katie had met at her hostel, when we visited Poechanellekelder in Brussels. We sipped and conversed with the two most down to earth Los Angelinos we had ever met.

2) Drie Fonteinen Oude Gueuze--another gueuze at the top of the list. Armand, the brewer/blender/owner at 3F, generously shared some of the final blends that included lambic he had made himself with all thirty-three of us on the Round Trip.

3, 4, and 5) Schneider Weisse, Schneider Weisse Tap 5, Schneider Weisse Tap 1--three variations on a hefeweizen from the best brewery in Germany. Schneider became the most popular place for a good beer for us Siebel folks. It's no surprise that Germans who know beer really well love Schneider so much. The night that Sam Barber, Chris MacLeod, and Andrew Lyle and I realized that they had all of the different weizens turned what was otherwise set to be a mellow night into a lively night of food, beer, and discussion. The frau of a server we had expected us to be an in-and-out group.

6) Rodenbach Grand Cru--John Dykstra, my good friend and busmate, has gone from sour tyro to sour junkie in the last twelve weeks. Like La Folie, the American interpretation which Rodenbach inspired, the Grand Cru is sharply sour and full of cherry flavor. Watching John enjoy his first Rodenbach in Belgium during our pseudo-Thanksgiving was enough to get this beer into the top 10.

7) Duvel--the "Devil" of an ale that proved light beer can be strong. It is the original Belgian strong golden ale, and having it fresh at the brewery was a fitting introduction to Belgian beer in Belgium. There were thirty-three of us who could have chosen any of the dozen or so beers that Duvel Moortgat makes during our free run in their taproom; it is telling that all 33 (half of 66, mind you) chose Duvel for our first beer.

8) Schlenkerla Rauchbier Marzen--the original smoked beer proves that it is a style with drinkability. I don't know that I had ever felt beer and history come together so dramatically as while enjoying a pint of Schlenkerla in their taproom that was built originally in 1316. Smoked beers are rare in the US and oftentimes show an injudicious use of rauch malt; Schlenkerla's smoked marzen is available year-round here and shows what restraint can do to make a beer better.

9) Augustiner Pils--you get made fun of by Munchner waiters for ordering pils. Thank god that the Lewis and Clark crew knew to ask for an Augustiner Pils the first time we visited their bier hall. On tap, which is near-on impossible to find, it is even better. Chris MacLeod reports that it may be available vom fass at Mama's Kebap House. If German gyros weren't good enough already, the idea of a scharfer kebap with pils is divine.

10) Paulaner Am Nockherberg Kellerbier--kellerbiers are ruddy, musty, woody, lightly carbonated and spicy. They're a complex style that rarely gets made outside of Germany, but they are incredibly flavorful beers that deserve more attention. Paulaner's version is available on tap only at their ornate brewery tap room, but it is worth the trip to Kolumbusplatz to have it. A great style that I wish American brewers attempted more frequently.

And finally...
Now that both Siebel and the Round Trip are done, it is time to go forth and brew. Lyn Kruger, the president of Siebel, presided over our graduation and gave us only one directive: "Go and make really great beer!"

At Siebel, I had a unique chance to learn, make friends with great brewers, travel to amazing sites, and get an insider's look at the world of brewing. I entered enthused and am leaving impassioned.

When my parents visited me in Chicago, about four weeks into the program, I told them that for the first time in a few years, I felt deeply excited and driven about what I was doing. The path to starting and running my own brewery was underfoot, and it was undoubtedly the right way. What the journey to that point in the coming months and years will look like is impossible to know, but I will get there.

Oh, and if you've made it to the end of the blog, and through the first part of the path to life as a brewer with me, remember to bring a copy of this final post in to my brewery as a coupon for a free pint.

Thanks for reading.