A Colorado beer connoisseur sips his way across Europe

This summer I ventured on a 22-day adventure via plane, train and those funny little Benny Hill cars through Belgium, Germany, Poland and Amsterdam.

Not only was it an opportunity to admire the culture, arts and scenery of Europe, but it also served as an excellent European beer tour. What follows are some of my journal entries, a few beer bios and a glimpse of a Colorado-born beer connoisseur in Belgium, the beer capital of Europe, if not the world.

Wednesday, July 25

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The plane trip from Dallas to Brussels was Monty Pythonlike. First, I met Pros, a Belgian man who raises horses in Texas for consumption back in France and Belgium. Then there was the young mother behind me who took off her blouse in plain view to feed her baby. Last, there was a nun who threw up in first class as we got off the plane.

Despite it being only 9:30 a.m., I was ready for a beer. I took the Metro subway from the airport to Brussels’ Central Station and walked a few blocks looking for a watering hole. In lieu of contracting toe-jam fever on the cramped plane, I was still full of glee. That is, until I noticed a large graffiti mural on a building that read, “U.S. Go Home!”

“Must be because of President Bush’s visit to the NATO headquarters the week before,” I told myself. I forgot about that as soon as I spotted a bar called L’Emperepir opening for business.

I ordered the house specialty, a white Hoegaarden pilsner. The original Hoegaarden brewery (pronounced “Hoe Garden”) can actually be traced as far back as the 1500s. This refreshing pale nectar (only 3.8 percent alcohol by weight) was a perfect breakfast juice made from wheat, malted barley and a third secret spice.

Thursday, Aug. 9

I hate to sound arrogant, but I’m not impressed by many of the beers I’ve tried so far, most being pilsners. I have already tried 13 different German beers, including a decent bitter pilsner called Jever at the Atlantic — Berlin’s version of Boulder’s Penny Lane, only they serve beer — and a marvelous dark chocolate beer called Kostitzer at the Ka De We (pronounced Caw-Duh-Vey) department store. I’ve also had four different Dutch beers and 21 different Polish beers.

I got a little bummed out because I wanted to tour the Warka Strong brewery, established in 1478, where my favorite Polish beer is manufactured in the town of Warka. Unfortunately, I was told they don’t allow tours for fear someone will steal the secrets to their fermentation process. They could make a killing with a tasting room and gift shop.

The first time I had Warka Strong was in 1991, two years after the fall of communism, in Piotrkow Tryb, Poland. It was poured out of a wooden keg and mixed with a small shot of black current juice and affectionately called “piwo i sok” (pronounced Peevo ­ e ­ soak). It was then I knew I had finally found the nectar of the gods.

I’m about two hours from Brussels by train after having spent two days in Amsterdam, where the Dutch aren’t known for their beer, save maybe Heineken and Amstel, as much as they are their coffee shops, canals and red light district. All I’ve got to say is I’m ready to be impressed by these Belgium beers I’ve heard so much about.

Friday, Aug. 10

I take the Metro to Brussels’s last traditional brewery, the Cantillon Brouwerij. There, master-brewer Jean-Pierre Van Roy and his wife, Clauda Cantillon, greet me, whose grandfather Paul Cantillon established the brewery in 1900.

“I am the last (Cantillon),´ said Clauda, handing us a brochure that includes a self-guided tour in English. The first stop is the mashing and hop rooms, where 1,300 kilograms of wheat and barley are crushed into fine cereal with warm water. This wort is then pumped into hop boilers. After filtration, the mash is sold for animal fodder.

Cantillon’s attic doubles as the granary and the cooling room, which has a shallow red cooper vessel that holds 7,500 liters of wort. Its brewing season lasts from October to April, because the brewery relies on a natural cooling process whereby a variety of wild airborne yeasts and microorganisms ferment the wort, which explains why workers don’t dust the cobwebs in the brewery.

This spontaneous fermentation process is legendary. Until 1860, all beer was fermented this way. After a very bubbly fermentation process, the beer is poured into casks. However, a bunghole on top of the casks is left open for further fermentation. After about four or five days, it can be sealed: Lambic beer is born.

Approximately 86 different yeasts are said to be in Cantillon’s Lambics. Lambic can be served after three weeks, or it can wait another year, two or three to be used for gueuze and kriek, two distinct varieties of Belgium beer.

After the tour, Jean-Pierre poured us our first tasting. “It’s a bottle of gueuze from last October,” he explained in a heavy French accent. This off-white beer had a bittersweet bite to it, and it fizzled like champagne.

“This is a cherry beer made with a Lambic from ’98,” he said during another round, adding, “The process to make (Cantillon) beer is like the process to make wine.”

“This isn’t beer,” my wife, Krystyna, whispered, “It is wine!”

I have to admit, it all tasted like wine to me, too, but some of the samplers we tasted did have a beery aftertaste. I am glad that I had the chance to try this rare breed of beer ­- it was an experience I won’t forget.

I was hoping to interview Jean-Pierre a bit more in-depth, but he was pretty preoccupied with a large contingent of French tourists. I also noticed they had a poster of President Bush on the wall that read: “Wanted! For crimes against humanity!”

If you are ever in Brussels, don’t be dissuaded by any of my observations. Visiting the Cantillon brewery is a must! Clauda is a peach. She also gave me every kind of beer label they had, including some that are no longer produced.

Saturday, Aug. 11

A bit of advice if you ever visit Brugge, Belgium: Remember that the locals did a lot of game playing when they named places. For instance, it took us almost one hour to find this bistro our host Veronique De Muynck at the Alegria B&B called Café Draal (I highly recommend the fish soup). But many of the locals we asked directions from called it the Cafedraal, as in cathedral.

Afterward, we set out for Brugge’s famous beer pub, ‘t Brugs Beertje on Kemelstraat 5. This bar has more than 300 kinds of traditional Belgium beers and a climate controlled cellar. I’m nailed as a tourist right off the bat, as owner Daisy Claeys hands me a beer menu, which is about an inch and a half thick, and asks me what I’ll have.

Momentarily blanking, I blurt, “I need some time.” Enter David Homer (not his real last name), who is from Northern Ireland and says he is quite knowledgeable about the beer. It didn’t take long before Homer was recruited as our beer guide at the pub.

We started off with Lindmans Pecheresse, an excellent peach Lambic, then moved on to an Oeral, a bronze summer beer, refermented on tap. Next came the Steenbrugge Triple Blond, a strong, hoppy, fruity delight. And we finished that night with a corked bottle of Moinette, perhaps my favorite of all Belgium beers.

“It’s brewed at an old farmhouse, but it’s very dangerous,´ said Homer, making the universal sign of tipping the beer mug a time too many.

Monday, Aug. 12

It’s the eve of our return home, and I’m a bit homesick, especially for my dog, the Broncos and American television. So, it’s like a small miracle when I meet our “Triple Threat” tour guide de Notredam, who owns Quasimodo Tours and looks like he could be John Elway’s twin brother.

Quasimodo’s “Triple Threat” tour includes sampling freshly made Belgium waffles, chocolate right after it’s made and a visit to the Gouden Boom (Golden Tree) brewery.

Brewing at the site of the Gouden Boom dates back to 1455. And, as legend has it, around the time of the plague, St. Arnold, who founded the abbey Oudenburg, placed his crucifix in a kettle of beer and encouraged the villagers to drink the beer; beer was actually safer to drink than the infested water back then. Today, many of Belgium’s breweries have crucifixes or shrines in their brewery to pay tribute to the patron saint that blessed their beer.

After a tour of this modernized brewery, we sample the Brugse Triple, gold-medal winner of the ’96, ’97 and ’98 World Beer Championships.

“Of all the beers in the world this is one of the 10 best,” Notredam said. “We have more than 600 different (Belgium) beers here in Brugges. Have I tried them all? Oh yes!”

Final Note: Thanks, St. Arnold, for making sure none of the bottles broke in my suitcase on the way home.