Brussels always delivers, but every year the festival itself gets more and more crowded, and it’s generally more relaxed to go have a drink in a bar than fight through the crowd.

The one good thing about the festival, however, is that there are so many beer lovers in town that you’re bound to meet someone interesting.

I remember one year we were at Cantillon, and the staff was working feverishly to take extra good care of an American guy.  It was hard to complain because they were opening up all kinds of bottles for him to taste, and then bringing the rest of the bottle over to our table afterward.  We ran into the guy later in the weekend at Delirium, and he turned out to be Tom Peters from Monk’s Cafe in Philly.

Not much from the outside

The good old prices...

Prepare for overload

After running into David from Brouwerij Huyghe year after year and night after night on these trips, we took him up on his offer of a brewery tour one year.

Delirium Bottling Line

What's Brewing?

Get me a straw

I could go on, but on a typical night out in Brussels any other time of the year,  you’re not as likely to run into such interesting beer lovers.

But hour long queues to buy tokens for the beer festival?  Waiting at the entrance for people to leave so that additional people can be let in?  Drinking at a bar is so much more civilized … and thankfully Brussels has some great places to choose from.  Here is a guide to some of our favorites…

Delirium Cafe

(… and family – Floris Bar, Floris Garden, Floris Tequila, Delirium Tap Room, Delirium Hoppy Loft, and the latest Delirium Monasterium)

Absinthe makes the tart grow fonder

This is the ever expanding bar … every time I visit it seems that they’ve added another bar, or at minimum, another room to an existing bar.

This is still one of the best reasons to visit Brussels.  Any beer you could possibly want, as they’ve got over 2500 of them.  Absinthe, tequila, giant 2 liter mojitos.  Pick your poison, they’ve got it.

Delirium Alley in Quieter Days

I remember my first visit back in 2005 when it was just the original Delirium Cafe in its cellar bar.  I was in town for a few days before a friend came to join me.  When he got to town, I told him that we could go to the second best bar in town first, and then go to the best bar … or we could just go to the best bar.  We got to the Delirium at about 6pm, and we closed it down at 4am.  That was the beginning of our time travel experiments.

These days, Delirium still closes at 4am, but the Floris Bar across the alley is open until 6am.  Those late night hours are some of the best times at the bar.

One of the problems with Belgian Beer Weekend is that during evening hours of that weekend, the Delirium bars are even more crowded and packed than the festival.  This year, we were thankful for the new Delirium Monasterium which always seemed to have a table waiting for us … along with a decent selection of trappist and abbey beers.

Prepare for teleportation

The convenient shortcut portal into the tequila bar is another plus.

I did almost cause an international incident there though.  One night I found myself craving the Westmalle Mixte.

Last year, before the Belgian Beer Weekend we paid a visit to Westmalle, and the Cafe Trappisten, which is across the street from the monastery serves a Westmalle Half and Half which we refer to as the Westmalle Mixte.  It is basically a Belgian black and tan … half Westmalle Dubbel and half Westmalle Tripel.

They’ve been doing it at Cafe Trappisten for  years … I can remember my first visit there, when it was in its old original building, and it was their specialty.

Westmalle Family Photo (Mixte is Center)

So I decided to order a round of Westmalle Mixte at the Delirium Monasterium.  I explained to the bartender to just use a big glass for the Westmalle Dubbel on draft, fill it half way and pour a Westmalle Tripel into it.

My craving was satisfied.

For a bit anyway.

My glass was empty, so I called out for another round.

A different bartender met me at the bar, and simply said “No”.

“What do you mean?”

“Respect the beer.  We won’t allow this.”

“Dude, they’ve been doing this at the Cafe across from the Westmalle monastery forever.  This is a sign of respect.”

“No.”

Another bartender asks me what I wanted.

“You have to understand.  Our boss always tells us to respect the beer, and we cannot make beer cocktails.”

Pannepot Reserva 2007

Then he looks past me to a shadowy figure that has sat down next to me at the bar.  He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, with his head bent down toward the bar.  I did a double take because at first I thought the hooded sweatshirt was a monk’s habit.

The shadowy figure nods his head.

At this point the bartender tells me that he’ll fill the Westmalle Dubbel draft half full in a large glass, and bring bottles of the Tripel, but that I would have to do the actual mixing.

The shadowy figure mysteriously disappears.

When the bartender returns with the drinks, he explains that was one of the head bartenders, and he had given the ok for the mixte.

Later that evening, without the hood off, the apparition reappeared, introduced himself as David, and pulled me back into the bar to share a Pannepot Reserva and some other special beers.  Good times.

The Pokemon (a.k.a., Poechenellekelder)

We just say "The Pokemon"

Mobile Manekin Pis

This is another of the great bars of Brussels.  At least 100 different beers, and the incredible restorative power of the spag boll (spaghetti bolognese).

Located across the street from the Manekin Pis.

Moeder Lambic

Located at Place Fontainas, this newer bar makes for a great afternoon diversion.  The focus is more on draft instead of bottled beer, with the selection focused on microbrews instead of the more well known Belgian brews.

I have to say that I’ve not been particularly impressed by most of the drafts that I have tried there … but it’s the Cantillon that keeps me coming back.  St. Lamvinus (red grapes), Fou Foune (apricot), Pamplemousse (grapefruit) … this is a place that always seems to have a great selection from Cantillon.

Bier Circus

The Old Bier Circus Location

I remember the days back when Bier Circus was the legendary beer bar in Brussels.  They were down the street from their current location, a nice little hole in the wall.

Reviewers used to complain about the bartenders, but I always thought they were real helpful in introducing you to beers that you might not have had.  The biggest problem with it was that they seemed to have strange hours and they weren’t located in the main part of town.  So you’d trek your way past the cathedral, only to find out that they were closed.

It had been a few years since I’d been back, but this year we made the trek for dinner one night, figuring that it was impossible to get a table for a large group anywhere near Grand Place.  It was a good call … the fish waterzooi was excellent and the beer selection more than respectable.

I need to make a point of returning more frequently.

A la Mort Subite

A la Mort Subite = Instant Death

Great old Art Deco bar.  Nothing better than washing down cubed salami and cheese with a good beer.

A required stop on any Brussels visit.  Read this review from the Grey Town Gazette.

La Porte Noire (The Black Door)

This year was our first visit to this cellar bar.  Decent beer selection, good vibe, a little on the warm side that particular evening.  Only about a block and a half away from the Pokemon and worth an evening visit.  (Only open during the evening hours.)

Hotel Ibis Lobby Bar

We probably spend almost as much time here as at Delirium.  The beer selection could be a little better, but how can you complain when one of the choices is Westmalle Tripel.  In fact, come to think of it, next time I have a craving for a Westmalle Mixte I’ll be ordering it here.  Read this review from the Grey Town Gazette.

Other Bars

We didn’t make it there this year, but Au Bon Vieux Temps is another old standby that is worth a visit.  You can read more about it in this Grey Town Gazette review.

Toone is also worth visiting at least once.  Limited beer selection, but uniquely Brussels.

Brussels Travel Guide Summary

• Delirium Cafe (and family) – The undisputed king of the Brussels bar scene
• The Pokemon (a.k.a., Poechenellekelder) – A wonderful respite away from the beer festival.  Respectable beer selection, great table service, and the restorative power of the spag boll.
• Moeder Lambic – Great afternoon spot for a Cantillon or two
• Bier Circus – A bit out of the way, but don’t forget it’s there.  The fish waterzooi is recommended.
• A la Mort Subite – Another afternoon spot recommendation.
• La Porte Noire (The Black Door) – Worth a visit if you need a change of bar scenery … good cellar bar.
• Hotel Ibis Lobby Bar – The place you always stop at when going to or from your hotel room.
• Au Bon Vieux Temps – The drinker’s hideaway.
• Toone – Puppet theater and beer.
• Cantillon Brewery – Open during the day until 5pm for tours.  Small sitting area available for drinking in the brewery.

Or so one of the characters from the movie “In Bruges” famously said.

't Brugs Beertje (photo from 2001)

I hadn’t been back to Brugge (the proper Flemish name for the town) since well before the release of that movie, so I was curious to see how things had changed.  We had always had fun in Brugge in the past, but it was basically a one decent bar town.  Plenty of good places to eat … the best fish soup in the world … but only one world class bar, ‘t Brugs Beertje.

Now that said, ’t Brugs Beertje is one of the best beer bars in the world.  In fact, it’s legendary.

But it’s closed on Wednesdays.

And guess what day we rolled into town?

Straffe Hendrik Quadrupel

I knew that when I was planning the itinerary for this year’s trip.  But we had to take the chance that Brugge was more than ’t Brugs Beertje.  And we also had to at least see a canal.  My friend ColaniAL has probably been to Brugge 6 or 7 times and had yet to see a canal.  That’s mainly because there weren’t any on the path between the Hotel Acacia and ’t Brugs Beertje, which was the only sightseeing we had done on any of those trips.

I’m happy to report that Brugge now has at least 2 additional world class beer bars, and a scattering of other fine establishments.

Moon over Brugge

Our first afternoon started at Huisbrouwerij De Halve Maan, the brewer of the Staffe Hendrik and Bruges Zot beers.  We were on a mission in search of Straffe Hendrik Quadrupel, one of the best new beers to be introduced in the past year.  R.A.B. has been enjoying it at the Lowlifer in London for the past few months, but for the rest of us, this was our first taste.

Brouwerij De Halve Maan

Wow!  While Staffe Hendrik Tripel is rather middle-of-the-road for its style, the Quadrupel just may define the standard against which all other quads will be compared.  Very impressive.  While I used to enjoy beers such as St. Bernadus Abt and Rochefort 10, it seems that lately they have been a bit too sweet for my taste.  The Straffe Hendrik Quadrupel is full of body, but there’s a hint of a scotch ale type of taste that comes across instead of the sweetness.  It might not be in quite the same class as Pannepot Reserva (we’ll get to that one when we get to the Brussels part of the trip), but it’s extremely drinkable.

We had our first two at De Halve Maan.  They have a nice outdoor courtyard which was just a couple of blocks away from Hotel Ibis Brugge Centrum, our new home in Brugge.

Cambrinus @ Cambrinus

From there we went to Cambrinus, which is just off the market square.   Cambrinus is more of a restaurant than a bar, but we spent several hours at the bar, and eventually moved on to a table for dinner.  Cambrinus has a great beer selection.  We noticed some Westvleteren Blond behind the bar, and that was definitely one of the highlights.  (The Westvleteren 12 is the one that usually gets all the attention, but the Blond is a treat itself … I’d call it a Belgian Pale Ale, with a great well-balanced but crisp hop character.)

Westvleteren Blonde @ Cambrinus

At the bar, we had met an English couple that was honeymooning in Brugge, and they had suggested we pay a visit to De Garre, so that was our next stop.  De Garre is a small bar down an even smaller alley way.  The alley has a name (De Garre), but we must have walked past it 3 or 4 times trying to follow our GPS before we finally noticed it.  The alley is more like a small doorway.

De Garre is a pleasant enough little bar … nice character to it.  They are best known for their contract brewed tripel.  I believe it is brewed by Van Steenberge, who brew Augustijn and Gulden Draak, among others.  I have to say it was a little sweet for my taste and I was happy to have a Westmalle Tripel after it to get the taste out of my mouth.  Oddly signs on the wall of De Garre proclaimed a three drink maximum of their Tripel, because of its strength.

't Poatersgat Cellar Entrance

From there, we headed toward Vlamingstraat, where we’d heard reports that there were two great newer beer bars … ‘t Poatersgat and Comptoir des Arts.

As we walked down Vlamingstraat, ‘t Poatersgat was the first one we found.  It was a little past midnight, and the cellar bar was packed … a good sign that this evening was not going to come to an early end.  The cellar at ’t Poatersgat is big … it has high ceilings (for a cellar) … and though it was packed, we had no trouble finding a table.  Great beer selection.

As the hours past, our numbers dwindled, but we were impressed that at a little before 3am they were still happy to serve us at the bar.  Finally at about half past three, the bartender sent a couple of local guys over the table to tell us that it was time for them to close.  But thankfully our new tour guides were happy to show us what was still open in Bruges at that time.  Behind the market square, there were a couple of bars with loud club music playing, but thankfully they had outside tables and Bruges Zot, and we learned Belgian drinking games as we drank to the honor of Mr. Something-puff-puff-puff.

This was followed by an hour or so trying to find our way back to the hotel … who knew that Brugge was so big?

Thankfully breakfast was now being served since we were famished after walking 10 miles in circles.

Rodenbach Foederbier @ Zalm

For day 2, we took a train ride to Roeselare to pay visit to Cafe Zalm, the only place where you can get Rodenbach Foederbier.  We’re big fans of the Rodenbach Grand Cru, which is produced as a blend of aged and young batches of the delicious sour beer, so we had to try the Foederbier.

Foederbier is aged but not blended, and served unfiltered on cask.  It was pleasant enough … a nice afternoon drink.  Low cask carbonation and not nearly as sour as the Grand Cru.  I was hoping for more sourness and body, like the Rodenbach Vintage ales.  But I’m glad we tried it.

Our entertainment for the afternoon was a band filming a music video on the market square outside of Cafe Zalm.  After hearing dEUS perform the same song over and over again, a couple of us swore we’d track down the album … not necessarily because of the quality, but to improve our scores when playing Belgian Trivial Pursuit.  (Our knowledge of dEUS would impress Belgians later in the week.)

Comptoir des Arts Cellar Entrance

Back to Brugge, we attempted a visit ’t Brugs Beertje … but if they don’t have their back room open (a question of how much staff is working), it’s a pretty small place.  A bartender suggested we take our group to Vlamingstraat … which of course we were very familiar with, so it was back to ’t Poatersgat.

Because I'm from Buffalo...

Our group was fading quick, so at about 1am, the two of us left standing decided that we had to give the other Vlamingstraat bar a chance.  Comptoir des Arts was just about rightacross the street.  The beer selection was about the same, but the music was much better.  The two of us sat down at the bar, and had great conversation with the owner, Bram.  He worked for Daisy at ’t Brugs Beertje for quite awhile, and he was a great host.  We had a great time talking about beer, music, and Las Vegas.  And I thank you Bram for convincing me to give Buffalo Bitter another try.  It had a lot of the same hop characteristics that I like about the Westvleteren Blond, just a bit more intense.  I must have had a skunked bottle the last time I tried it.

Comptoir des Arts is also great for their aged Orval.  You can get fresh Orval, year old Orval, or 3 year old Orval.  I must admit a weakness for aged Orval, so I know I’ll be returning.

Like ‘t Poatersgat, Comptoir des Arts stops serving around 3-ish.  According to our texting log from the day, our last communique of the evening was “4am frites. suck it.”  I can think of no better way to end a day’s drinking in Bruges.

Travel Guide Summary

• Comptoir des Arts – Beer bar with best bartender/owner
• ‘t Poatersgat – Best beer bar for large groups, younger crowd
• ‘t Brugs Beertje – Old favorite beer bar
• Cambrinus – Beer bar & restaurant
• De Garre – Beer bar down small alley way near market
• Huisbrouwerij De Halve Maan – Straffe Hendrik Quadrupel (only open afternoons until 18.00)
• Hotel Acacia – Old favorite hotel
• Hotel Ibis Brugge Centrum – WDT 2011 Official Hotel
• Cafe Zalm – Roeselare, a 25 minute train ride from Brugge
• dEUS – Belgium’s most famous rock band

100% rundvlees = 100% cow (and cow by-product)

Why is Amsterdam a regular stop for the WDT?  I’ve got one word for you:

McKroket!

Sure, I post a lot about this bar or that bar … pretending that it’s all about the beer, or maybe about the jenever.  But it’s all just a cover story.  Years have passed since my first encounter with the McKroket, but I’m still jonesin’ for a McKroket.

Take a croquette and put it on a bun?  Genius!

I’ve done my research and spent years and millions of dollars on corporate espionage to steal the secret recipe.  100% Rundvlees? Please…I’m not so easily fooled.  (However, if you loosely translate it as “100% cow and cow by-product” as opposed to 100% beef, you’d be very close to the secret formula.)

I spent years being the Plankton to Ronald McDonald’s Mr. Krabs.  For what?  I should have just moved to Amsterdam …

This McKroket’s for you!

De Wildeman

It is with great pleasure that I look back on another successful European fall campaign by the WDT. The first leg of the tour was Amsterdam.

It’s a pretty bold statement to start in Amsterdam.

First Westmalle of the trip

After taking the train into the city from the airport, the festivities always start at In de Wildeman. Why? Well, In de Wildeman may very well still be the best beer bar in Amsterdam, but it’s best quality is that it opens at noon. I love Amsterdam, but let’s be honest, it opens late, or at least the decent beer bars do.

It is customary to start with a Westmalle Tripel, and then gradually get more adventurous. On this recent visit to the Wildeman, I did take the opportunity to try a few Dutch microbrews.  Two that stood out were the Jopen Fokkerbier (especially the way the bartender pronounced it), and the Emalisse Black IPA.

Jopen Fokkerbier

Emelisse Black IPA

Jopen Fokkerbier is a dunkel weizen, similar to another decent Dutch beer Texels Skuumkoppe.  It’s a decent beer, and if memory serves me correctly, I did have more than one.  It may not hold a candle to the standard bearer for the genre (Schneider Aventinus), but it tastes pretty good on a rainy afternoon.

The Emelisse Black IPA seems to be part of a trend by Dutch and Belgian brewers to copy newer American beer styles.  I suppose that’s a good thing.  This particular brew was decent Black IPA, but could use just a little more of a hop punch.  Drinking it gave me a craving for Stone’s Sublimely Self-Righteous, which is probably as close as there is to a standard bearer for the Black IPA style.

Some brand names don't travel well

Thankfully the Wildeman has a great selection of Belgian beers, so after this it was back to the Belgian standard bearers.

Jenver @ De Drie Fleschjes

On the way back to the hotel, I noticed that De Drie Fleschjes was open.  I don’t know what the hours are for this bar, but if you pass it by, and it is open, you have no choice but to pay it a visit.  Forget about beer for a minute, as this place is all about genever (sometimes spelled jenver).  It may be the drink induced time dilation effect, but once you start drinking genever, it is extremely difficult to stop.  As De Drie Fleschjes only seems to be open 2 hours a day, you won’t overdo it too much … unless you take up drinking with some locals.  In that case, after De Drie Fleschjes closes, you’re likely to end up at De Ooievaar, over toward the Zeedjik.

I’d love to tell you more about De Ooievaar.  One of the members of our party has quite a few pictures on his camera that were taken there.  So evidently we were there for quite some time.

By this time, it’s a good idea to get a good meal on your stomach, and thankfully the Thai Bird is not too far.

IJ is the 25th letter of the Dutch alphabet, placed between X and Y

And then, as it is custom, it’s time to head back to Cafe Belgique for a nightcap … either La Chouffe or a Westmalle Tripel.  Considering that you just arrived in Amsterdam that morning on a red eye flight from the US, it’s probably a good thing that Cafe Belgique closes at 1am.

Cafe Belgique is probably the smallest bar in Amsterdam.  It doesn’t have the best selection of Belgian beer, but it’s got a strong selection … and it’s got enough of a vibe that we just keep ending up there. In fact, we now stay at the Best Western Dam Square Inn, because it is the closest hotel to Cafe Belgique.

Brouwerij 't IJ

When you wake up the next morning around noon … chances are that at least one member of your party will already be back at the Wildeman.  And they probably also had pancakes for breakfast at De Vergulde Lantaarn (The Golden Lantern).  Good for them.  Join them for a Westmalle Tripel and embark on Day 2.

One of the highlights of any trip to Amsterdam is an afternoon at Brouwerij ‘t IJ.  It’s better known as the windmill (molen) brewery.  Not only can you count on great beer, but this is a great place to hang out at the outside tables and meet people.  Or just watch some of the entertainment around you …. as you never know what to expect.

Why Willy? Why?

This past trip, on the way to ‘t IJ, we stopped by Brouwerij de Prael.  I have to say that their tasting room is architecturally very well designed and clean.  The beers, on the other hand, were consistently disappointing … with the general consensus being that they lacked body.  Even the beers that were stronger in alcohol seemed to lack any flavor or richness.  I remember the beers were all named after old-time famous Dutch celebrities.  No disrespect intended toward those celebrities (it makes it ok to disrespect them if you say “no disrespect intended” first), but the pictures of them made me think of old time 1970′s daytime television.  Imagine that an American microbrewery took the approach of brewing beer and naming them after 1970′s daytime television stars … imagine what the Merv Griffin would taste like.  Needless to say, you wouldn’t be missing out if you skipped Prael.

Back to happier thoughts … Brouwerij ‘t IJ.  Natte.  Zatte.  Columbus.  Struis.  They also have a wonderful tasting 7% Wit beer.  This year, they also had a Belgian IPA style beer which satisfied the hop craving after too many tripels.

Cobra @ The Akbar

As Brouwerij ‘t IJ closes up for the evening, I recommend taking the tram down to the Leidesplein area.  If you’re in the mood for Indonesian food, I strongly recommend Puri Mas. Or if you’re on your own or looking for something a little less expensive, try Bojo’s.  This year, however, we were headed for the Akbar.  The Akbar has, quite possibly, the hottest Indian food on the planet.  But it’s quality stuff … not the kind that destroys your interior … but a heat that you savor.  Highly recommended.

The De Zotte Monk has seen better days

Since the Gollem appears to have been closed down for good, we decided to visit an old favorite bar just a few blocks off the Leidesplein … De Zotte.  It had been a few years since my last visit to De Zotte, and it was good to be back again, and good to see that the monk was still there, even if he was looking a little worse for wear.  De Zotte is another of the great Belgian beer bars in Amsterdam.

Another visit to Amsterdam over so quickly … time for one more nightcap at Cafe Belgique before we rest up for the next day’s adventure in another town …

Travel Guide Summary

• In de Wildeman - Belgian & Dutch Beer Bar
• De Drie Fleschjes - Genever Bar
• De Ooievaar - Genever Bar
• Cafe Belgique - Belgian Beer Bar
• Best Western Dam Square Inn - Conveniently Located Hotel
• De Vergulde Lantaarn - Restaurant: Pancakes
• Brouwerij ‘t IJ - Brewery / Brewpub
• Brouwerij de Prael - Brewery / Brewpub (hopefully it will improve with time)
• De Zotte - Belgian Beer Bar
• Puri Mas - Restaurant: Indonesian
• Bojo’s - Restaurant: Indonesian
• Akbar - Restaurant: Indian

Before and After, not necessarily in that order

@b

A brief word of explanation: The WDT, while focused on the pursuit of inebriation, is not immune to the overpowering influence of technology. Thus, each year we set up a text messaging group called @B that allows our merry band to be in constant contact throughout the trip.

It’s simple … you subscribe to the list and, as you feel the need, you send texts that everyone on the list will receive. It is mostly used as a tool to setup various rendezvous points, and some folks who don’t make the trip use it to live vicariously, but, as the trip grows longer and the evenings later, strange and wonderful words begin to appear.

What follows is a “best of” list from the @B logs of our most recent trip. It is not in date or time order and is completely taken out of context. It’s much funnier that way.

The only constant is that each of these items was actually sent out to the entire group at some point during the trip. Names have been largely omitted to protect the less than innocent … but you know  who you are.

Enjoy!

“You should be in bed with a hangover.”

“If baby in carriage screams any louder it will break the windows. That would be good. Need some fresh air!”

Watering Hole
Bar of the Month

Lowlander Grand Cafe (a.k.a.’Lowlifer’)

Comfort Zone

The only bar to evict us for not drinking enough

Conveniently located on this side of the channel, Lowlander offers a Belgian-Dutch drinking experience to London-based beer lovers. And by virtue of it’s Covent Garden address it offers the added bonus of being a perfect sanctuary for beer connoisseurs wishing to escape from a tedious musical, play or shopping expedition

The Beers

Lowlander’s well stocked cellar includes all the stalwart Belgian bottled beers – Westmalle, Duvel, Rochefort etc – and numerous draft brews which this reviewer confesses to rarely trying, but it’s also noteworthy for importing some more interesting lines from less well know brewers, such as ‘Hopus’ by Brasserie Lefebvre and the products of the Netherlander Texelse Bierbrouwerij. Be sure to check out their ‘Beers from the Cellar’ and ‘Hidden Treasures’ lists for other interesting things to try

Thankfully, Lowlander differs from actual Belgian and Dutch bars in one important respect: it serves a wide range of excellent meals and snacks

Lowlander is clearly run by people who know and love their beers and this extends to the helpful staff, all of whom are friendly and attentive, in particular the very knowledgeable Danish waitress from Preston

The bar can get very busy, which adds to the pleasurable buzz, but in the afternoon and at weekends there is usually a table or two free. On the negative side this reviewer and party did once have the bizarre experience of being turfed out at 8:15pm on a Sunday because ‘it was too quiet’. We of course immediately offered to drink extra to cover for the missing clients, but to no avail. So should you wish to drink there on a Sunday evening it might be wise to have a coach full of reserve drinkers on stand-by just in case they are needed

Grey Scale Rating: Platinum

Lowlander Grand Cafe, 36 Drury Lane, London WC2B 5RR
http://www.lowlander.com

Featured Beverage

A great drink to enjoy at this month’s Watering Hole

Special notice: introducing a new beverage rating system: The Westmalle Tripel Relativity Index (Wt)

This is the first GTG Downtime review to use our new higher precision rating system for alcoholic beverages. Regular readers may have noticed that we only ever rate drinks as Platinum. There’s a good reason for this: life is too short to drink poor booze, let alone write about it. So after initial samples we immediately reject all the dross and concentrate on the best stuff. But we realise you might want to know the relative quality of the platinum drinks…to know which are the ‘best of the best’ so to speak

Well luckily our Drink Scientists have come up with the answer: the Westmalle Tripel Relativity Index (Wt for short). This is like the Richter Scale, only more important and it rates the drinks on a scale of 0 to 10. Westmalle Tripel is 10 (of course) and to be platinum a drink must be in the range 9.0 – 10

Like warp-speed the system is exponential with 10 being the absolute physical limit in the normal universe (but be warned funny things can happen under the right quantum conditions – in special zones of unreality – and we will be writing about this after our next trip to St Sixtus)

GTG Downtime: Drinking for You!

Troubador Magma

Two Courses in One:  A hearty main, followed by a fruity desert

Vital Statistics:

Two-in-one

Creator: Brouwerij The Musketeers BVBA

Style: Rich amber-brown Belgian Triple

Strength: 9% ABV

AI Value:* 9

Killer App: A balanced meal in a bottle – recommended for astronauts

Medicinal Qualities: Makes doctors redundant

Tasting notes: Smacks you in the gob, then kisses you better

Grey Scale Rating:** Platinum

Wt Relativity Index*** 9.2

Brew Basics

Origin

The young Brouwerij ‘The Musketeers’ was founded in 2000 by four ‘brew engineers’ who, according to their website, took inspiration from the adventurous French Musketeers of the 18th century and created their own brewing company

As for the beer’s name, again according to their website “the troubadours of the medieval times were young men wandering from village to village, from city to city, bringing with them joy, music, traditions, poetry, history and legends of other places”. Well, apart from the ‘young’ bit and lack of quantum mechanics it sounds a bit like a World Drinking Tour event after the first dozen or two rounds

They brew three beers: ‘Blond’, ‘Obscura’ (a dark beer with stout influences), and the ‘Magma’ featured here

What’s so special?

The Magma has a rich full body with pleasant bitter edge and refreshing passion fruit after-taste. Satisfying and refreshing

One note of caution: despite it’s generally beneficial medicinal qualities, like any good beer Magma doesn’t improve the memory. When this reviewer proudly announced the discovery of this pleasant beer WDT colleagues assured me I’d already tried it before. But then I never take reliable people seriously

http://www.troubadourbieren.be/en

Beam me up Scotty!

This is a reprint of a special daily supplement from the Greytown Gazette.

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverages of the Day - Balkan 176 Vodka & Tequila/Spicy Tomato Combo

Dark Matter Discovered!

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverage of the Day - Straffe Hendrik Quadrupel
Watering Hole - The Kulminator, Antwerp

Bigger than the deficit

This is a reprint of a special daily supplement from the Greytown Gazette.

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverage of the Day - Floris Garden Mojito
Watering Hole - Floris Garden, Brussels

A palette Van Gogh would give his right ear for

This is a reprint of a special daily supplement from the Greytown Gazette.

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverage of the Day - The Beers of Brouwerij t’IJ
Watering Hole - Brouwerij t’IJ, Amsterdam

Annotated Diagram

This is a reprint of a special daily supplement from the Greytown Gazette.

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverage of the Day - Chimay Bleue
Watering Hole - Aux Bon Vieux Temps, Brussels

Safe Haven

This is a reprint of a special daily supplement from the Greytown Gazette.

Seven Days: Seven Beers: Seven Reasons to Live

Beverage of the Day – Westmalle Tripel
Watering Hole – In De Wildeman

Special Report by Science Editor Round A.Bout

(Article reprinted from The Grey Town Gazette December 2010 Issue)
Floris Garden, Brussels, Sat Dec 11th:

Beam me up Scotty!

Preliminary experiments in September had produced enticing early evidence that spicy tomato juice might be the vital ingredient needed to facilitate that Holy Grail of quantum science: controlled Alcohol Induced Teleportation

To test the theory a special team of experts was assembled from across the globe and the group descended on the Testing Range at Floris Tequila, Brussels to conduct the experiment. Your correspondent was flattered and privileged to be invited to participate.

Sadly the results were not at all as expected. Despite copious quantities of Tequila, pushing their bodies to and beyond the limit nobody was able to initiate a teleport, controlled or otherwise.

Sometimes gravity is too strong. It’s only a small bar, but as any astrophysicist will tell you: when it comes to pulling power, size isn’t everything. But even when factoring in the compelling environment, it still wasn’t sufficient to explain the failure to teleport.

With the benefit of hindsight doubling up on the tomato juice was probably the key mistake. It moderated the effect of the Tequila to the point that there was insufficient energy to take any of the assembled Drink Pilots over the Drink Horizon and into the Quantum Slipstream. The frustrating equilibrium was not broken until finally the bar ran out of the special spicy tomato juice and substituted the normal bland stuff. At that moment I (for my part) experienced an immediate random Type 3 Jump directly back to my hotel room.

When I awoke the room wasn’t spinning, but I was. A sure sign of an unpiloted landing and proof that relativity can work both ways.

Quantum Physicists are a persevering bunch and it’s only a matter of time before this experiment is repeated (perhaps with a little less of the Tabasco) and rest assured the GTG will be there to record the results.

R.A.B.

(note: spurious italics in this article have been deleted by the site moderator)

Last night I was at the Triple Rock in Berkeley, California, and a gentleman at the bar had a terrible case of the hiccups. Seeing a drinker in distress, I asked the bartender for several lemon slices. The barkeep had never heard of this simple cure, but obliged, and the hiccups disappeared after two quick bites of a lemon slice.

Maybe this cure only works if the hiccups are triggered by drink. But I can’t be in every bar on every day, so I’m counting on you, Internet, to solve this epidemic once and for all. Spread the word, cure the epidemic. The hiccups you cure could be your own.

Double Trouble: Unintended Consequences

Quantum Qorner:
The Science of Tomorrow Applied Today

Good Allan, Bad Allan – The Enemy Within

Absinthe Teleportation Experiment creates bizarre result

Calculation error results in Double Trouble

Special Report by Science Editor Round A.Bout

(Article reprinted from The Grey Town Gazette November 2010 Issue)

Floris Garden, Brussels, Sat Sept 4th:

An adventurous experiment in Alcohol Induced Teleportation(AIT) resulted in a bizarre outcome this weekend. Renowned bon vivant and part time quantum scientist Allan Carter bravely used himself as a human guinea pig in his quest to push the boundaries of man’s understanding of alcohol-quantum phenomena by being the first person to try to attempt a controlled absinthe-induced point-to-point teleport.

It’s thought that when preparing his Absinthe Allan might have added too much sugar to the fuel-alcohol mix, boosting his drink’s energy level and tipping his quantum state over the Drink Horizon. When he re-materialized he was no longer a singularity….but a duality!

Apart from a little additional facial hair, probably caused by a temporal anomaly, the new Allan (‘Allan B’) is identical to the original (‘Allan A’). Well nearly.

Observers started to realize that all was not right, that the two Allans are not quite the same. They have subtly different personalities.

The ‘Monster from the id’
During the teleportation process it’s believed that Sub Space turbulence caused a destabilization of his Quantum Slipstream and Allan’s good side was split from his evil side. The result is a personality-duality with two halves of his id, or inner self, occupying separate but identical bodies.

But although superficially separate they cannot in fact act independently because they are bound sub-atomically as an Entangled-Pair. In this state the laws of physics mean that they are subject to Einstein’s Spooky inaction at a distance, forever caught in a symbiotic causal-loop, with every action by one resulting in an equal but opposite inaction by the other: One Allan relentlessly proffering new and more exotic drinks, the other Allan downing them without hesitation and demanding more

Quantum Qonundrum
But, as is often the case with quantum science, some questions simply cannot be answered. For sure, we now have two Allans: ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’. But the Quantum Qonundrum is: which one is which?

Background: the Science of AIT
The science of Alcohol Induced Teleportation is well established, supported by a mountain of empirical evidence. It’s something all of us who live in the real world have experienced at least once: one moment you are happily downing a drink with your mates in friendly bar, then the next moment you open your eyes and find yourself lying fully dressed on your bed with the lights on. Or you might wake up in another bar, perhaps one you’ve never been in before. Or the back of a taxi. Or worse

In fact. controlled experiments at several monasteries across Belgium have revealed that AIT will randomly follow any one of 4 different patterns:

AIT Type-1. Bar-to-Bar
AIT Type-2. Bar-to-Car
AIT Type-3. Bar-to-Bed
AIT Type-4. Bar-to-Barfroom

This non-determinism is unavoidable. Quantum Uncertainty ensures that it is impossible to predict the type of transfer in advance*. This severely limits the usefulness of the procedure as a day-to-day transportation method, but this has not prevented a growing band of adherents practicing it as a leisure pursuit

The process is of course closely tied to the previously discussed Drink Induced Time Dialation Effect (WDT June 2006 & GTG December 2009), with the speed and distance of teleportation (STD) being proportional to the square of the Alcoholic Index (AI) of the drinks being consumed.

ie. STD = Square(AI)

Absinthe Alcohol Induced Teleportation, or Double-AIT (‘Double-Eight’) as it is known in quantum circles, is a special variant of AIT and is infamous in the physics community for its unpredictable results. So much so that for several decades the procedure was banned in many countries before being rehabilitated in the light of new discoveries in modern theoretical physics (and better medicare services)

The Memory Paradox
One serious question remains however. Researchers are yet to work out why AIT doesn’t teleport memories and cash – they’re always left behind at the bar

R.A.B.

*update: rumors are starting to circulate that it might indeed be possible to facilitate controlled teleportation. Unconfirmed research suggests that consuming tequila shots along with spicy tomato chasers allows the ‘Drink Pilot’ to mitigate the alcohol flow and control the jump over the Drink Horizon into sub space. The GTG staff will be putting this to peer review in the very near future.

Editorial note: the GTG would like to apologize to it’s readers for the excessive use of italics in this article

Skippy and I were at the Delerium Café enjoying a beverage or two at an outside table in the alley. There were several empty chairs around us and, as often happens, random strangers would plop down at the table, exchange pleasantries, and then move on. But one gentleman in a particular seemed to be on a mission.He was from Switzerland, but that’s not his fault. We didn’t get his name, or if we did, it was something like Wicky, or Zubriggen or Donders … but no matter. We’ll call him Montreaux (Monty for short).

Monty plopped into a chair across from us and introduced himself. We did the same. Everyone was smiles and sunshine and drunkeness and laughter. But then, Monty turned serious.”Tell me a story about Chuck Norris.” he said to me, his eyes filled with a strange longing.

“What?” I replied … as you will.”Tell me a story about Chuck Norris.” he repeated.I was momentarily taken aback.What to do? But, the longing in his eyes to hear about Chuck Norris, combined with the fact that I was six mojitos towards the promise land, made the decison all too easy.

Here is the story I told:

Chuck Norris is in a bar getting wasted. As he sits at the bar, he pukes down the front of his shirt. Immediately he breaks out into tears sobbing “My wife is going to leave me. I’m just a miserable old drunk and now I’m going to die alone”.

The bartender turns to him and says “It’s not that bad. You can get out of this. Take a $10 bill and put it in your shirt pocket. When you get home, tell Mrs. Norris that you had a couple beers and a guy at the bar puked on you. Tell her that he gave you the $10 to pay for the shirt.”

Chuck Norris looks disbelievingly at him and says “That just might work. Thank you.”

Chuck goes straight home. When he walks through the front door, his wife is waiting for him and she is irate. She takes one look at him and screams “I can’t believe it. You’re drunk. I warned you but you just don’t care. I’m moving out.”

Chuck says, “Stop honey. Let me explain. True I did have a couple beers but I’m not drunk.”
She says “Look at you! You puked down the front of your shirt.”

Chuck Norris says “I didn’t do this. A drunk guy next to me puked on me. He put a $10 bill in my shirt pocket to pay for the cleaning. You can see for yourself.”

Chuck’s wife reaches into his pocket and pulls out some money. She looks at it, then to him and says “This is a $20 bill?”

Chuck Norris looks at her and says “Oh I forgot. He shit in my pants too”.

Monty seemed satisfied. he nodded knowingly, shook our hands and then stumbled away into the night. It’s a shame he left so soon. I was hoping he would tell me a story about Renée Zellweger.

Editor’s Addendum:  Enjoy this video recreation from the next evening …

While scientific authorities have not yet released their report on the massive crop failure, Belgian Beer Blogs are reporting that the following image is to blame.

The photo clearly shows an unidentified Sasquatch type creature running naked through the hop fields of Belgium.

Unidentified Sasquatch Running Naked Through Belgian Hop Fields

And once this photo has been seen, it cannot be unseen.

Try as you might, and oh yes, you will try, but it will haunt you for the rest of your days.

“The image is burned into my retinas,” stated Fesses Velu, noted Belgian Beer Snob and Hop Farmer from Wallonia. “I can never look at a hop field the same way again, or drink a hoppy malt beverage without reliving this horror. It burns my eyes like a venereal disease. Not even the English would buy these hops now.”

In related business news, Belgian breweries are being sold at fire sale prices. Belgian brewery Delirium Tremens was reportedly sold to Barry and LeVon for $240 worth of pudding.

Beer Drinkers Offered Same Rights as Religious and Cultural Groups

EU gets something right for once

A special report reprinted through the courtesy of The Grey Town Gazette.

Brussels, Sept 7th:
The European Union is to introduce legislation officially recognizing beer drinkers as an Ethnic Group.

The decision was made by a group of influential MEPs as they participated in an intensive 3-day field study at the 2009 Brussels Beer Festival.

The move means that Beer Drinkers will have similar rights to religious groups.

Positive Action

The rules will put the onus on employers to actively ensure they and their employees do not in anyway discriminate against Beer Drinkers. For example employers will be required to provide special rooms (known as ‘Bars’)and regular conscience breaks from work (‘Happy Hours’) so that devotees can practice their faith.

Employers must also respect events of special meaning to the group – such as Beer Festivals – and allow adequate leave for followers to attend.

Some drinking groups are particularly strict and require their members to practice regular rituals such as ‘Binge Drinking’. Employers are obliged to treat these people with appropriate sensitivity the following day.

Employment Discrimination

A spokesperson for the UK Ministry of Equality Enforcement (ME2) added “In the modern age it is no longer acceptable to discriminate against someone simply because they like to drink too much and so devoted Beer Drinkers are entitled to equal opportunities in their chosen career, be that airline pilot, ambulance driver, or Mullah”

Footnote: here at the GTG we think this has been a long time coming, but doesn’t go nearly far enough. What about wine and cocktail drinkers? We think they have rights too and we will campaign to ensure they are not forgotten.

Clocking in at 18.2%, the BBC points out that a single bottle contains twice the recommended daily limit.

Ah … to live in a nanny state and have both the state and people like the Auntie Beeb looking out for you.

Truth is, we know that BrewDog is just using this as a publicity stunt, and that’s good enough for us. We need a first official drink to start off this year’s festivities, and it’s got to be BrewDog Tokyo.

Arrangements are being made to get enough BrewDog Tokyo to Poperinge for those who are making the whole trip. If it’s complete crap, at least there will be 100 different beers to wash away the after taste…

Thanks Keith!!!

However, it is a great and diverse country with many sites to see…from its coral reefs to its caves to its Mayan ruins. But we’re not here to talk about that…we’re here to talk beer.

Belize has a virtual beer monopoly with one brewer that controls the market with local brews and some international brews under contract. Most are forgettable … another bland tropical lager that quenches thirst …

Maybe 9 days of drinking Belikin Stout has clouded my judgment, but it’s actually a pretty nice beer. I’m not sure it’s a stout…my favorite stouts are the bottle conditioned Cooper’s Stout from Australia and for draft the PorterHouse brews out of Ireland (proudly served at their branch in London Covent Garden). I like a good draft Guinness…but if I’m in Dublin I hit every PorterHouse before returning to the hotel bar for the Guin. Oh … and don’t get me started on imperial stouts … that would be a nice nightcap right now as I sit on the beach.

Anyway, the Belikin Stout is a lighter stout but has some depth to the flavor…I question whether or not it is a true stout, but let’s call it a summer stout. A darker beer that drinks well under the hot sun…the world needs more beers like that. I’d gladly drink a Belikin Stout back home by the pool.

America needs a good summer stout … Belikin has done something right …

Aruba is not exactly what you’d call a beer destination. Like other Caribbean destinations, it’s the land of fruity drinks and bland lagers.

But that’s ok. The local beer, Balashi, tastes pretty good when you’re sitting on the beach. If you’re going to have a couple of beers, I always recommend drinking local, so be sure to have a couple of Balashis. On the other hand, if you’re going to have 11 or 12, then I’d recommend the Heineken (usually not my first choice … but Heineken does encourage you to enjoy Heineken responsibly, which I think means that you can keep drinking it until you accidentally spill one)…

What else did I learn?

I learned about heretofore little known and mythical religions of the Indian subcontinent. Then again, perhaps the religion was not native to India, and had only been outsourced there … that doesn’t make it any less significant to the people who lost their religion because of this outsourcing, but I digress.

What was I talking about again?

The Drinking String. An inspiring relgious tradition.

A group of young Indian men approached the hot tub, and one had a long string draped over his shoulder.

Naturally we inquired about the string, and it was explained that it was of religious significance.

The young man’s religion did not allow him to buy alcoholic drinks. However, when he wore the drinking string, we was able to accept drinks purchased by others.

Yeah … I don’t think he got too many free drinks that way, but it was a religion that intrigued me.

I also learned that Springfield Missouri is the capital for “eggs and kegs”. Apparently it’s not just for St. Patrick’s Day any more, but a regular weekend ritual in Springfield Missouri. Bored from years and years of pouring beer on their corn flakes … morning after morning … more Springfield residents prefer a hot breakfast with their cold beer these days, and I salute them for their effort. (And I guess it is better than warm beer with a cold breakfast, although the latter is a lot easier to prepare with a hangover.)

I also learned a few things about Aruba that are useful for the beer drinking tourist.

The supermarkets do have some limited Belgian beer offerings. I picked up some Hoegaarden Grand Cru at one shop and a friend found some La Trappe (Dutch trappists from just over the Belgian border) at another.

And to prove that I can find a Belgian bar anywhere …

There’s also a small Belgian bar/restaurant called Taste of Belgium that has 8 or 9 Belgian beers, great frites, and some of the better food that I had on the trip. It’s in a shopping mall across from the Holiday Inn … otherwise known as the mall with the movie theaters. Not the biggest selection of Belgian beers, but when your palate has tired of Heineken and Balashi, a Westmalle Double, Kwak and Duvel all taste pretty good. The restaurant tables are out in the mall, which provides a bit of entertainment for tourist watching … and there’s also a small bar area that you can go into if you’re just interested in a beer.

Last, but not least, if you’re in Aruba, you might as well ride the Kukoo Kunuku party bus one night. Where else will they take you to a bar where they still play “Where the f#*$ is Alice”?

Last Sunday I had the good fortune to find myself on the road between Los Angeles and San Diego. I was in LA for a friend’s wedding, and turning the trip into a long weekend with a couple of days in San Diego sounded like a good idea.

I hadn’t planned on including any beer excursions on this trip. Oh, yes, of course, I had done my homework and had contingency plans for beer … I ALWAYS have a contingency plan that involves beer … but honestly, that plan was just a contingency.

The wedding was in Manhattan Beach, just a couple of miles south of LAX airport, and one of my contingency plans found me at the Manhattan Beach Brewing Company on Friday afternoon. Alas, to say that the beer was uninspiring would be an understatement. At least the porter was drinkable enough to merit a pint after the sampler. But it’s kind of sad to say that the soft pretzel was the best offering on the bar menu.

After that less than stellar experience, I figured that I’d spare my wife from any more brewpub visits on the trip. But as I was driving down I-5, with my wife asleep in the passenger seat, I thought about Stone Ruination IPA. I don’t get to drink it very often, but I figured I could at least pick some up at a package store in the San Diego area, and enjoy it later on the beach.

By the time we got to Oceanside, the thirst was driving me crazy. I was about to tell my wife about the purple gargoyles, but she would see them soon enough…

I knew that the Stone World Bistro was about a 15 to 20 mile detour inland, and I had seen so many great reviews of this out-of-the-way establishment … how could I let this opportunity pass me by?

The GPS was already programmed with its new destination coordinates by the time my wife woke up from her nap, and she acquiesced to yet another brewpub lunch stop.

The GPS was a little bit off in finding the exact location of the brewery, but the smell of the hops, and an extremely strong beer magnet steered us into the brewery on auto-pilot.

There was a 45 minute wait for a table, which seemed like a good opportunity to sample a beer or two at the bar.

Then I noticed the green wristbands. Something was going on at the outside bar.
The Second Annual Stone Sour Fest.

30+ lambics and mostly Belgian style sour beers on draft … and another 30+ in bottles?

At this point, I figure that my wife is going to think that it was not just a spur of the moment decision that led me to the Stone World Bistro that afternoon. In fact, she’s probably figuring that I somehow convinced my friend to have his wedding that weekend. (Not true … if it were, I would have made sure that he and some other friends were with us at Stone.)

As I’m already quite familiar with the Belgian lambics, I mostly stuck to trying American craft beer offerings. Valley Brewing had a strong sour, their Grand Cru, that was pretty awesome. Another standout was an American lambic that was a collaboration between Lost Abbey and the brewmasters from Avery and Dogfish Head (among others) which was very nice, I believe they called it the Isabelle Proximus.

I also tried a few that weren’t so great. So I have to admit, I couldn’t stay away from the Rodenbach Grand Cru, which was the most satisfying sour beer of the afternoon. Zotezuur was also very nice.

I found it quite interesting that Stone would host this event, when they didn’t have a single beer included in the festival. I couldn’t leave without sampling at least one Stone beer fresh on tap … so I had the Cali-Belgique IPA, which is a style that I’d really like to see in Belgium. The mix of flavors is fantastic, just think of a richer (maltier than Westmalle) tripel with a heavy hop infusion. 21st Amendment in San Francisco does an occasional Double Tripel IPA as a seasonal, but Stone’s is hoppier, and was awesome with lunch. While I love Belgian beer, one thing that is missing is a truly hoppy Belgian beer.

I wish I had been better prepared with luggage that could handle taking some back to the east coast. But alas, beer doesn’t travel well in a garment bag. So for take away, I settled on a six of Ruination and 2 big bottles of the Stone 12th Anniversary Ale … a bitter chocolate oatmeal stout.
Stone Ruination Ale is always a treat. But I really enjoyed the anniversary beer … while it had some hops, it used bitter chocolate as its primary bittering agent, and it was a pretty bitter stout.

Now comes the challenging part … working out the logistics to get a contingent from the World Drinking Tour to Escondido, California.

Actually, the bigger challenge would be getting them to leave.

The Cali-Belgique IPA that I enjoyed with lunch reminded me very much of the Westvleteren Blond. It’s a constant debate that several of us have … which is better, the Westvleteren Blond or the Westvleteren 12? When given the opportunity, I usually opt for a 60% to 40% split of rounds favoring the 12 over the blond. Stone’s Cali-Belgique IPA was like a stronger version of the Westvleteren Blond … no wonder I enjoyed it so much.

As I sipped the Cali-Belgique IPA, looking out over Stone World Bistro’s garden area, I couldn’t help but think of similarities between this beer mecca and the In de Vrede Cafe in Westvleteren. I could imagine Keef wanting to pitch a tent and simply live in the garden area. I wonder if they’d let him fish in the koi pond? If so, I suspect he’ll pass on his fishing club’s trip to France next year …

There’s no doubt, Stone is world class. And while the Stone Sour Fest was great … I look forward to a future visit where I can enjoy an afternoon and evening sticking only to the Stone brews.

Yes, I use sites like Beer Advocate, and I scour the web for details about bars and breweries in places that I am traveling to. But I’ve also seen how a lot of the great places become overwhelmed with crowds and become a less appealing destination.

I don’t want that to happen to La Trappe.

I want them to be successful, so that they are around for me to enjoy for a long time … but not too successful, if you know what I mean.

That said, La Trappe is simply one of the best Belgian beer bars in the world. And I’ve been to a lot of them. Bruges t’ Biertje. Kulminator. In de Vrede. Beer Circus Croydon (RIP). Belgo Zuid (RIP … the only Belgo that ever really mattered). Brewer’s Art in Baltimore. The Trappist in Oakland. In de Wildeman. The Gollem. Academie de la Biere (Paris), Delirium Cafe and Tap Room. I could go on, but off the top of my head that’s a good top 10 list. And not to mention countless others with vast beer selections that were not necessarily Belgian focused.

La Trappe in San Francisco is less than a year old, but it is well on its way to establishing itself as one of the best Belgian bars in the United States … or for that matter, the world.

Indeed, it is almost as if Belgium has annexed 800 Greenwich Street.

Why do I give La Trappe such high marks?

Well, of course, the beer comes first. Their growing beer list has over 200 beers … mostly Belgian, with a few interesting Belgian inspired American offerings, such as Jolly Pumpkin La Roja. 15 rotating taps, including my new favorite, Zoetzuur.

Second, there’s the atmosphere. When you first walk into La Trappe, it doesn’t impress you all that much. You’re going to think that you’re in the wrong place, a simple neighborhood eatery. Look for the steps leading downstairs if the kitchen staff doesn’t point you in that direction. The steps take you down into the beer cave … a.k.a., the Trappist Lounge … where beer nirvana awaits.

If you’re there with a group … or a date … what a great place to hang out.

If you’re flying solo … definitely hang at the bar. I’ve met some really interesting people there, and some very bizarre people as well. The Irish guy whose job is transporting federal prisoners was a real hoot … I don’t know how much of what he said was real, and how much was delusional, but it doesn’t really matter.

This should be enough information to get you to pay a visit to La Trappe … but wait, there’s more.

How about some authentic Belgian food?

Yeah, it’s a restaurant too. The moules and frites over coconut jalapeno rice rocks. I have a hard time ordering anything else. There are other traditional moule pots as well … waterzooi … oysters on the half shell.

And their fish soup is the best that you’ll find west of Bruges. Well, it will be. That is the only thing missing. So when you visit, be sure to ask Michael about the fish soup. Once that’s added to the menu, the perfect Belgian bar and restaurant will finally exist.

It pains me to know that the next time I visit La Trappe, it’ll probably be hard to get a seat at the bar. But on the other hand, if fish soup is on the menu, that’s a small price to pay.

I’ve long been a fan of the Gordon Biersch Brewpub in Las Vegas. It’s not too far from the Hard Rock Casino. Yeah, Gordon Biersch is a chain, and one is pretty much like another. And while the beer is not outstanding, I have to say that it is pretty good and it is consistent. Better yet, the food is always great. Since I’m usually in Vegas for a convention, I try to stay somewhere near GB, which is an ok walk to and from the convention center. And there’s a Starbucks right across the parking lot from GB … what more do you need? You can almost forget you’re in Vegas … good beer, great food … stumbling distance to your hotel … coffee in the morning. Life is good.

The Freakin’ Frog is another venue I always visit while in Vegas. It seems like it used to be the only place you could get a decent IPA in town. And you could usually count on Chimay Tripel on draft and some other interesting beers. But it’s a little out of the way, over by the university. The Freakin’ Frog has an extensive selection of beer in bottles … but a lot of the prices are pretty ridiculous (with many of the beers just listed as “market” for the price). I still like visiting the Frog, but it’s hard for me to take the bottled beer list seriously as so much of the prices are outrageous. Still, when I was there a couple of weeks ago, Sierra Nevada Bigfoot was on the bottle list for $4. Not a bad bar price at all. I don’t remember how many I had, but I’m thankful I woke up the next morning in my own hotel room.

For a better beer experience, I have to say that this time I enjoyed the Burger Bar at Mandalay Place. It seemed a little odd at first, a hamburger restaurant in small shopping mall with mostly upscale clothing shops, with a video constantly playing on the TV with their master chef appearing on PBS making his gourmet hamburgers. But when I sat down and ordered my first pint of Stone Ruination IPA, I knew I was in love. The Burger Bar has some other interesting taps (such as the obligatory Chimay Tripel), and it has a small, but good, reserve beer list. They had a Stone Anniversary Black IPA that I enjoyed with my burger. Since we don’t see Stone that much in the southeast USA, I was quite intrigued by their beers.

While in town, I also made a point to check out the Triple 777 Casino Brewery in the Main Street Hotel, down near the Fremont Street Experience. It was maybe a little better than you might expect from a “casino brewery”, but not much. It did have one redeeming grace, however … the beer was pretty cheap … and the food was pretty reasonable too. I wouldn’t necessarily go out of my way to visit here again, but if you’re down near Fremont Street, and you could use a Pale Ale, the price to quality ratio is pretty good here.

Enjoy Vegas. If you find yourself in need of a decent beer, I hope this short report helps you out!

A picture is worth a thousand words.

I met up with Mr. Wilson in Orlando recently to see guitar wunderkind Joe Bonamassa at the Hard Rock Live.

Before the show, on a tip, we ventured to the tap house at Orlando Brewing (www.orlandobrewing.com). If you venture there by taxi, be sure to print out a copy of the map from the Orlando Brewing web site. While it is close to downtown (a little south of downtown proper, a few miles north of Universal Studios), the brewery itself is in an industrial area, so it is not exactly a popular tourist destination.

But for the beer lover who happens to find him or herself in Orlando, it is a godsend.

The house beers aren’t particularly special … although I do give 3-1/2 stars to the Old Pelican EPA which is a nice full bodied pale ale. The rest of the line up is fine session quality, and better than what you’ll find in most other Orlando bars … but the guest taps are the real highlight here. I enjoyed a couple of beers from La Chouffe, a Chimay Cinq Cents, a Laguinitas IPA, and wished that I had the time to explore some of the other taps. But alas, we were on to the Hard Rock Live where the best they had to offer was Michelob Amber Bock …

As I know that fate will lead me back to Orlando again, I know that I’ll be finding my way back to Orlando Brewing Company again and again …

According to the e-mail, the Delirium Tap Room opens with 25 unusual and unique tap brews on Friday, December 7. Alas, my schedule doesn’t work for December 7, but I’ll be in London the following week, so I’m working on a plan to take the Eurostar to Brussels on the afternoon of the 14th, and then back on the first train Saturday morning so that I can catch my flight back to the states.

Founding tour member Keef introduced me to “The Skim” (as it is better known) over 10 years ago. As we drove up Bonnys Road in Reigate, he pointed to a sand trap on the golf course and simply stated, “I slept in that bunker one night.”

Indeed, one of the best things about The Skim is the convenient discount lodging at the nearby bunker … although the early morning checkout time, and wake-up call with a golf ball, can be a minor inconvenience.

You can read more about our tales from The Skim at our sister web site, http://www.theskim.com/ or http://www.skimmingtoncastle.com/ … the web sites that eventually led to the creation of this blog.

But alas, it’s been a rough year for The Skim. Long time publicans John and Naomi called it a day in September 2006, and a new tenant landlord was brought in. They still have Addlestone’s Cloudy Cider on tap, but the food … which was always consistent … if not high-quality, extremely good quality … country pub food … has gone downhill. And the public has noticed, as the pub is not nearly as crowded as it used to be.

In early August, on a Sunday afternoon visit to The Skim, I had run into John at the bar. He had popped in for a quick pint, but then joined me and my friends on the new back deck at The Skim to catch up on things. Turns out that he and Naomi had just wanted to take some time off, but they were soon to be taking over the Black Horse in Reigate, which was less than a mile down the road.

As fate would have it, my next visit to Reigate was Thursday, September 20, 2007. Keef and I thought that we’d check out The Black Horse, see if John had taken over yet, and if they had Addlestone’s … then maybe pay another visit to The Skim.

Turns out that it was John’s first night at The Black Horse. No Addlestone’s yet, but we had a pint and decided that the food menu was definitely worth returning for … after a quick trip to The Skim. Popping round The Skim for a few pints of Addlestone’s is always a good idea … but it’s an especially good idea if you’re flying long haul out of Gatwick the next day (preferably with a flight around noon).

After four or five pints of Addlestone’s, we arranged transport with our designated driver Brian to pick us up at The Skim and head down to the Black Horse for a meal.

The food at the Black Horse was excellent … and while there was some decent beer, we decided to transition to the Hoegaarden, as that seemed more compatible with the Addlestone’s that was already in our system. And I’m proud to have been there to close down The Black Horse on John’s first night (which probably reminds him why he had wanted to take some time off in the first place).

Thankfully, the Black Horse has a comfy sitting area so that the designated driver can take a kip, while his mates take pictures and make a general nuisance of themselves.

I look forward to returning to The Black Horse, which we jokingly refer to as The Skim 2.0.

But I also hope that changes will be forthcoming for The Original Skim, so that it can return to its past days of glory and legend.

‘Nuff said, ‘eh Gumby?

Brian Jackson suffers the consequences after yet again refusing to go drinking with his mates, as extreme dehydration sets in.

So I missed Steve’s going away party at the Beer Circus. I’m at the
Beer Circus and so is Steve, minus the onion breasts (thankfully).

Well it doesn’t seem like a year since we were last there, but despite that I think we left it too long before revisiting.

Sure, those of us lucky enough not to live in South Carolina can buy most Belgian beers at our local supermarket, but that’s just not the same. You have to be there to fully enjoy the beer…drinking it at mid day in Grand Plas in the sunshine, or washing down shrimp croquets, tucking into the stomp, or even scoffing an occasional horse steak!

Anyhow, your corespondent has found a new favorite beer – Maredsous Triple. Its up there in the same league as Westvleteren 12.

Having discovered something so pleasant (and effective) it took great will power to to even consider trying other beers.

But my sense of duty prevailed and I tried a few other varieties, only returning to the Maredsous 2 or 3 times a day.

We also found some new friends…a contingent of similar minded guys from The Netherlands.

We got on so well we didn’t need to learn each others names….or maybe the beer just killed those brain cells… Whatever, the camera didn’t forget.

Of course we are all health conscious individuals and so in the evenings we took care to make sure we got our daily dose of fruit and vegetables.

Luckily the new Floris Garden serves magnificent mojitos…..rich in anti-oxidants they’re the ideal “detox” drink, clearing the pallet and readying one for the next round of beers.

The bar was out of jugs and so kindly served us the cocktails in pint glasses. What service! (antique phone provided to show scale).

The weekend passed all to soon. Time to start planing the next visit!

R.A.B.

ColoniAL dutifully reported on the Amsterdam leg of the tour, but not a word was written about those 4 nights in Brussels.

For this reporter, I can only say that any attempt to describe the trip with words just seemed to take away from the magic.

I did take some notes at the beginning of the trip. So I know that it all began with an Orval in the lobby bar of the Ibis, as we waited to meet up with some of the early arrivals. A Westmalle Tripel followed (the selection at the Ibis lobby bar isn’t the most extensive, but in any other town it would be nothing to complain about).

Then a small contingent wandered in search of La Lunette for a lunchtime session. I remember enjoying a liter of Rodenbach, followed by at least one additional liter.

I remember many nights sitting at the tables in the alley between the Delirium Cafe and the Floris Bar. Hanging out at those bars was really the highlight of the trip. The inside of the Delirium Cafe was too crowded, but the alley way was great … as were the late nights inside the Floris Bar, where we did our best to clear their shelves of absinthe. I remember the water dispenser dripping over the sugar cube for absinthe in the French style … and I remember the flaming black absinthe. I also remember Joel, the owner of Delirium Cafe and Floris Bar giving a hand signal to the barman late one night … early one morning … initially we thought he was cutting us off, but we were pleased to learn that instead the next couple of rounds were on the house.

I remember meeting Tom Peters from Monk’s Cafe in Philadelphia at the bar in Delirium Cafe. Earlier in the day we had been enjoying a few bottles of Cantillon at the Cantillon Brewery … and we watched as the folks at Cantillon gave special attention and treatment to an American. We didn’t know who the guy was, but as they offered him samples in one room, the good folks at Cantillon would bring the left overs from the big bottles over to our table and explain to us what we were sampling. When I saw Tom at Delirium Cafe later in the day and saw his Monk’s Cafe shirt, I put two and two together … Tom is the person who convinced Cantillon to make their Gueuze available on draft for his bar in Philly. A great man indeed, and we enjoyed finishing off the samples that he was offered at Cantillon.

I remember meeting a bartender from the Poechenellekelder who had stopped in at the Delirium to meet up with a bartender from another Brussels bar after their establishments had closed. He bought me a St. Bernadus 12, encouraging me to give it another try. I had written off St. Bernadus 12 a couple of years back, when I had a bottle that was just way to sweet for my taste. But he was right … with Westvleteren 12 so hard to find these days … St. Bernadus 12, while not a perfect substitute (it is too highly carbonated), does help alleviate the craving at least a little bit. We need to make it to the Poechenellekelder this trip … it’s probably a better lunch time stop on the first day than La Lunette.

I remember the beer festival itself on the Grand Place. It was a great location from such a festival, if a bit crowded. I remember the Irish guy who was hitting on Rosie … or maybe he was hitting on Dale … I remember he kept talking about how his friends sometimes wondered if he was gay as he was the only unmarried one among his group of Irish friends who had made their way to the beer festival. I think he was trying to hit on Rosie, but he might have been distracted by Dale’s bulging biceps …

I remember Bill guarding the table full of Westvleteren Blonds that he had ordered on our behalf when he was the first one to arrive at the festival on Saturday afternoon. I remember Harrison being elected mayor of Brussels (or at least if the election was held that day, and only people at the beer festival, Delirium Cafe and Floris Bar could vote, he’d have won by a landslide).

It was a great time … a lot of serious Belgian beer drinking … and I’m sure if I thought long and hard enough, a humorous anecdote or two … but I’d rather not think about it too much. I’d rather just sit back and smile …

And now the time comes from for a return trip … Belgian Beer Weekend 2007 … Brussels be warned, here we come!!!

Young Steve is about to embark on a year long move to Paris, and he’s been catching up on the latest fashion trends. Unfortunately, his fashion consultant is Grandpa Simpson:

“We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell ‘em stories that don’t go anywhere—like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville.I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ‘em. ‘Give me five bees for a quarter,’ you’d say. Now where were we? Oh yeah—the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…”

The onion necklace is a 21st century variation of the style … and I understand it is taking Paris by storm.

Good luck in Paris Steve, it looks like you’re going to need it!

Having been hibernating for the last 12 or so months your correspondent was lucky enough to wake up just in time for the Great British Beer Festival 2007.

Our group converged from exotic places far and wide – South Carolina, North and South Croydon, Redhill….

There was a fine selection of 300 or more beers and we were determined to down a sample pint or two of most of them. The pasties were good too!

Things were going well, but by 8pm the Alcohol Induced Time Dilation Effect was already starting to kick in. Not only that, but we were witness to another stranger-than-reality quantum event…it happened like this…..

It was mid evening and having downed only 6 or 7 pints we were obviously still at the height of our observational powers when suddenly a colleague shouted that someone had stolen my beer! Outrageous! We leapt to our feet and gave chase…we caught the hapless suspect but he didn’t have a clue what we were talking about! Strange….very strange! Then imagine our surprise when we returned to our table only to find the beer glass – and contents – right there in front of us! Spooky! How could that have happened?

Of course, the only possible explanation is that the glass must have been temporarily sucked in and out of a micro worm hole (they’re getting quite common in West London, especially near bars). The virtual thief, seen by my reliable friend, was obviously some kind of phantom artifact at the event horizon. Luckily we had had enough beer to calm our nerves and we decided to carry on drinking regardless. That’s the true blitz spirit!

Next adventure: Brussels 31st August (preceded by a limbering-up session at the Beer Circus, Croydon, 23rd August).

R.A.B.

P.S. if a half drunk pint of English bitter should happen to spontaneously appear in front of you you know where it came from….don’t worry, just blink and it will be gone.

1. Everyone who used to post here has given up the drink and is now politely typing away on the Competitive Scrapbooking Blog.

2. In what can best be described as a freak occurrence, everyone has simultaneously drank their collective foot off. Police insist that the incidents are “unrelated”.

3. My dear friends and beer guzzling compatriots have FINALLY modeled there lives after Jack Nobrains and are comfortably secured within their mansions watching Brokeback Mountain over and over while trying to figure out how the Xbox 360 controller works.

Regardless of the reasons I have decided to post a cautionary tale. This, my dear friends, is what can happen if the drink speaks louder than reason. A few weeks ago, the boys in ASOF got together and had a pint or six. At some point during that conversation the fateful words “Wouldn’t it be funny if …” started a sentence … but it also started a whole lot more.

My sad, disillusioned singer decided that it would be a good idea to create the world’s only Punk Rock Britney Spears Tribute Band. And yes, it seemed like a good idea at the time. A beer here, a rehearsal there, and two weeks later we had what is now HitMeBaby – The Only Punk Rock Britney Spears Tribute Band You’ll Ever Need.

Oh, if only I were joking.

Since that time we have played ultra-fast, hyper-aggressive yet tween friendly renditions of Ms. Spears tunes to sold out crowds throughout Oregon. I am ashamed to report that it is to date the most successful thing I’ve done musically and yes, has claimed the teeny bit of credibility and dare I say – dignity – that I had left. But the money is good and there is almost always beer involved. I invite you to share in my coinciding shame and success. www.myspace.com/bangingbritney – you can also see pics from our first show HERE.

I can only hope that we are worthy of a Skippy The Lizard post. Dare I say that we may become his new favorite band.

Please drink more, and then write more. I know there are still stories to tell.

Case in point: Club Royalty off the Leidseplein.

One night during our recent trip, Steve and I were wandering aimlessly about town trying to find live music. You would think that a party town like Amsterdam would have tons of live bands gigging nightly to packed houses …. You’d be wrong. It was a Saturday night at about 10pm and we simply could not find a club with a live band. Now, I’m not counting the weird two man band in the horse trailer pulled by a golf cart that stopped every two hundred yards so that a skinny Dutch kid could do an awful karaoke version of Iron Maiden’s “Run to the Hills”. Oh yeah, that really happened … but it still doesn’t count.

We were prepared to give up the hunt and just get to the business of drinking without provocation when just out of earshot we heard the strains of what could only be a live drum kit and a slightly out of tune guitar. “A band!” we screamed, “an honest to goodness band!” and we scurried off toward the sound. It was coming from a very dark, very modern looking place called Club Royalty. We paid the doorman, went inside, and there, on the stage, was a band called Mongo or Mondo … something like that.

Okay, this is where it gets weird. The band was fun – a Dutch cover band doing passable versions of U2 and Lenny Kravitz songs – but apart from the band and the staff …. Steve and I were the only people in the place. Not weird you say? Well, dig this …. Big bar, four bartenders on duty, three doormen, two bar backs, and a host of additional people … all for …. me and Steve. Further, there was an upstairs with an additional four staffers. Still, just me and Steve and our glasses of Heineken … which we could get refilled by any number of people at the raise of an eyebrow. It was the best service … ever!

An hour passes … then two. We watch the band (still just us), and notice even more people reporting for work! At this rate there was about a 6 to one staff to patron ratio meaning that Steve and I could easily walk from one end of the empty bar to the other on the heads of bar employees without ever touching the carpet. We were stunned. The band played on and eventually announced there last song. It was a rousing AC/DC cover that met with the hearty applause that only four hands can make. Then it happened …

At exactly midnight the bar was full. I don’t necessarily remember people coming in … I just remember being one of two people in the room and then, in the blink of a bleary eye, there were two or three hundred people taking up every available square inch of space. I’m not complaining – we had fun and met some very interesting folks. We even came dangerously close to a full on bar fight with some older gents who seemed to be dressed for an “Insurance Salesman of the Year” banquet. Even stranger, now it cost 25 cents to pee … and from a female Men’s Room attendant who looked like she had borrowed Lindsey Lohan’s liver for the weekend.

The band never went back on – so no one but Steve and I actually saw them – instead a DJ playing 80s dance records took over – but the place remained balls to the walls packed until 4am. Needless to say, it became harder to get a beer when there weren’t eighteen people serving the two of us. Ah, but we managed to drink until we were asked not to, and since it was Steve’s birthday … plenty of ill advised tequila was involved.

As is always the case, the story gets weirder and darker and involves one of us doing our part to strengthen international relations in a way the UN can only dream of … but I’ll leave that story for braver souls to tell …

Suffice to say that Amsterdam always delivers … just not always on time.

It was rendezvous day. The day that our Belgium contingent would board their train and join Steve and myself in Amsterdam. The plan was to meet at 7:30 (pm) at the Café Belgique and then … game on.

Me and Steve? Well, we’d been in Amsterdam for a few days already and were starting to feel the effects of having done very bad things … lightly peppered with the pain that comes from knowing you still have bad things left to do. We had awakened – or better yet – “come to” at about 2pm and were walking to get some coffee. We were far too traumatized for a scone but secure in the knowledge that we’d bounce back by 7:30 and be ready to drink anew.

At roughly 2:15 we passed through the alley where the spectacular beer bar, In De Wildeman, is located. As fate would have it, I turned, looked, and saw Skippy walking into the Wildeman just as we passed. He hadn’t seen me yet. I turned to Steve and said,

“Hey, that was Skippy … they must be early … we should go have drink with him.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now Steve is not known for his Zen-like wisdom, in fact, given the right chemicals and the opportunity and he’ll drag you like a fool straight towards the most dangerous of dangers. But, on this day he morphed into the Yoda of organized bending and said:

“Now, you do know what it will mean if we meet up with Skippy now, don’t you?”

I did, in fact, know. And once you know … you can’t unknow. Still, we steeled ourselves and headed back to the bar.

As it turns out, Skippy and his brother had spent the entire train ride consuming the better portion of a fifth of home made lemincello. Lemincello, for those who don’t know, is a potent Italian liquor that looks like drug test urine and tastes like a combination of creamed corn and lemon furniture polish. It’s an acquired taste to be sure, and apparently Skippy had acquired it. He was already blasted.

Time passed, beer flowed, and Skippy fell further and further down the rabbit hole that is blind ass drunk. We met the rest of the crew at the Belgique shortly thereafter and well ahead of our original 7:30 time. A few beers at the Belgique, and then off to the Golum … another well oiled beer bar that will hurt you if you let it.

As we approached the Golum it was packed full of people. Skippy, in desperate need of a beer he desperately didn’t need, rushed into the fray while some of us hung outside. We were chatting away when … BAM! We heard a commotion behind us and noticed a Golum patron had completely passed out, fallen straight to the ground, and whacked his head solidly on the bricks for good measure. I mention this only because every member of our group had the exact same thought at the exact same second: “Is it one of ours?” (Translation: Skippy) Luckily it was not a member of our group, though the poor fellow had clearly hurt himself and did end up spending at least one night in Amsterdam at whatever passes for an Emergency Care facility. We wish him well.

More beers and then, as is always the case, Mr. Wilson suggested dinner. He is perpetually tired but driven to great feats of endurance by the fact that he is also perpetually starving. We agreed on Thai food, picked the locale, and made our way – stumbling Skippy in the lead – towards the real meat of this story.

It was shortly after ordering our meal at the Thai place that Skippy went quiet. We all saw the change and braced ourselves for the worst. First he stopped moving. Then he lost all the color in his face. Then he began the side to side sway that always means your having an internal dialog with yourself about NOT doing what you are thinking of doing next. Skippy’s bro leaned over to assist but Skippy waved him away quickly. His expression was now one of hopeless acceptance and, like the devil in that Charlie Daniels song; he knew that he’d been beat. What happened next will go down in history as one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.

It was clear that Skippy was going to vomit. His eyes were watering and his cheeks puffed out mightily as his last drink, twelve previous drinks, and possibly drinks from trips past surged forth into the on deck circle. His lips made that pursed pucker that you see in grand and glorious fountains and he did the tell-all forward lean. Then, like an archer frog aiming for a fly on a leaf, one thin long stream of former cocktail arched forth and onto the floor as straight and precise as the dancing fountains at the Bellagio in Vegas. Ah, but that was it. One little warning shot across the bow and then nothing.

At this point the table was in quiet chaos. Some did the graveyard whistle as if to say “Um, he’s not with us”. Some mentally prepared for the impending horrid scene involving restaurant management and possibly local authorities. Skippy’s bro jumped instantly into “crisis solver” mode and scanned the immediate area for some vessel to place in the way of what would surely be a flood of beer, booze and bile. He and I both saw the potential salvation at the exact same instant … it was on a little ledge just above Skippy’s head … it was a crock pot. The pot was slightly above us so we could not tell if it was empty, plugged in, hot, cold or otherwise. Skippy’s bro threw caution to the wind and went for it, but I immediately shouted: “NO! Not the crock pot” … probably louder than I wanted to.

In my mind I had visions of a steaming hot crock pot full of some odd soup with fish eyes floating in it crashing down, burning “Kung Foo” tattoos into his arm, and showering Skippy in probably the only thing more foul than what was waiting for release in his stomach. My shout rang true, the attempt was halted, and Skippy, somehow, managed to pull it together. Oh, there would be more vomit … pounds of it I’m sure, but not here, and not in this restaurant.
Skippy went outside for some air as we finished our meal and paid the check. As we exited the restaurant we reunited with Skippy and his bro and headed back out into the night. As we passed his hotel, Skippy gave us a mournful look and said, “I’m done.” We nodded, for we knew he was done … only we knew at 3pm and it was now 9.

With a look that said, “Dammit! I want to keep drinking but I can’t because I’ve been drinking!” Skippy made his way inside and on to a long night of Technicolor yawning and false promises of sobriety. There would be another night and we knew he’d be there … ready to go. Even the world’s greatest homerun hitter needs to sit out an inning once in awhile.

For Lance it was clearly, “We could drink another Belgian beer, or we could go watch some bloke shaggin’ a bird.” For him, that was more than a catch phrase, it was a life motto.

For Martin G, it was “I work for a small company, and I don’t have an expense account.” Maybe not such a great catch phrase, but you always knew you’d be picking up the tab.

And I’m sure I’ll think of some others, but this got me thinking about the catch phrases of some of our regular tour participants.

Keef is a complex individual, and it is tough for a single catch phrase to define him. But he does have a few catch phrases that stand out in my memory …

“I slept in that bunker one night.” – An off-hand comment as we drove past the golf course on our way to my first visit to the Skimmington Castle pub.

“All I’ve got to say is that I’ve got nothing to say.” – Keef is rarely a man of few words, much less the same few words repeated over and over again. However, he must have said this to me about 50 times as we wandered the streets of Amsterdam, hoping that I would be able to recall the way back to our hotel.

“All the time you’re drinking, you’re saving money.” – This was Keef extolling the financial advantages of drinking at the cafe across the street from the Westvleteren monastery. In fact, if you haven’t already, you should sign up for his next financial planning seminar.

“One pint is too many, and ten pints is too few.” – Classic sage advice from Keef on what would happen if we popped ’round the Skim for a drink.

“I think I’ll order another Hurricane, so I can catch up to you all.” – Definitely Keef’s greatest weakness … if you started drinking before he arrived, he’ll insist on trying to catch up. But 3 Hurricanes in the span of an hour at Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans was an ill-advised plan.

As I think about the other regular tour participants, I can see that we’ve got work to do in establishing catch phrases. Here are a few, that probably only the regulars will understand … see if you can match up the catch phrase with the participant to which it belongs …

“I’m stuffed and exhausted.” (Definitely better if an American says this one, as it could mean something a little different to a Brit.)

“Jeg snakker norsh veldig bra!”

“I have over 5 million years of marketing experience.”

Yeah, these others aren’t quite good enough to qualify as a catch phrase. And if you want to be a character, you need a catch phrase. Ponder this thought as we gather in 7 days time…

Some people say that the best thing to ever come out of Croydon is the A23. But I can’t find it in my heart to glorify an exit route from this fine city.

Indeed, many people across the southeast of England poke fun at Croydon, looking down on it with condescension. Yet, all of these people have a Croydon story, a Croydon experience that they are waiting to share with you, if only you ask. It may be a repressed memory, and you may need to put them under hypnosis in order to get them to talk about it, but their Croydon story is there waiting.

Ever since the walls came down, and East Croydon was reunited with West Croydon, there has been a renaissance spirit uniting all Croydonians. (It may be interesting to note that while there are areas of Croydon still known as East Croydon, West Croydon and South Croydon, there is officially no North Croydon. That is because London is actually North Croydon, renamed after a bitter civil war in 1649.)

But I’ll never forget my first visit to Croydon. I believe it was before the walls came down, and I spent a week in East Croydon.

The trip started off on a bit of a surreal note, as colleagues took me to visit the Commonwealth Secretariat, which was a customer of ours. The Commonwealth Secretariat is like a mini-United Nations, comprised of all of the nations that are still considered to be a part of what was once the Great British Empire … and is now known as the British Commonwealth … an organisation that continues exists primarily so that the Commonwealth Games can be held, so that England has at least an outside chance of winning some type of international sporting event, since they don’t stand a chance playing against real countries.

Anyway, we were invited to a monthly pot-luck dinner/social event that was put on for Commonwealth employees. It was an interesting experience, and an enjoyable evening drinking them out of their supply of duty free Castle Lager at 50 pence each. The Canadian bartender did finally figure out that we wre not the new US delegation to the Commonwealth, but not before we had exhausted his supply of Castle (insert evil laugh here).

Declaring our international drinking mission a success, we returned to Croydon, and upon arriving at East Croydon station decided that there was still time to facilitate several more drinks.

So, we popped into a Croydon local. It was a nice summer’s evening, with several picnic tables outside of a particular pub. Keef, Frenchy and I sat down, and took turns walking back into the pub to get the next round.

After several rounds, an odd little man stumbled up to our table and babbled “You’re not going to let me in there, are you?”

“What?”

“You’re bouncers right? And you’re not going to let me in there, are you?”

“You can do whatever you like.”

“You don’t like me ’cause I’m from the norf. You’re not going to let me in there.”

“Whatever. If you don’t want to go in the pub, you don’t have to.”

And the little man disappeared into the pub.

About 15 minutes later, he returned to our table. “You don’t like me ’cause I’m from the norf. I could rip your heart out, right where you’re standing.”

We look up at him wondering what this guy is talking about.

“You don’t like me ’cause I’m from the norf. I could rip your heart out, right where you’re standing.”

“Um … excuse me, but we’re sitting down.”

“You don’t like me ’cause I’m from the norf.”

At that point, Keef stands up, and we realize that this little man is less than 4 feet tall … and about half the size overall, compared to Keith’s 6 foot plus frame. Maybe he did think we were standing up all along. Keef gives him a push … and the little man runs off into a waiting car and quickly drives away.

Just a typical night out in Croydon.

Ah, but don’t ask me about Croydon. If you really want to learn more about Croydon, you should check out the Croydon Film Commission web site at http://www.croydonfilmcommission.com. There you will learn about Croydon’s “mini-Manhattan skyline”, it’s world renowned reputation as a “mecca for shopping and entertainment”.

Whenever I have a spare moment, you’ll find me with my web browser pointing to the Croydon Film Commission home page, continually hitting refresh so that I will be presented with a new “Croydon Film Fact”. Like this one … “Fact 114: Bill Murray was chased around Croydon in The Man Who Knew Too Much” … in fact, I believe the man chasing him kept screaming, “You don’t like me ’cause I’m from the norf!”

Everyone knows that the secret to avoiding a hangover after a long night’s drinking is to take two Advils (ibuprofen) and a glass of water before going to bed. After a particularly lengthy session, you might need to follow-up with another two Advil in the morning or in the middle of the night, as needed.

Armed with this knowledge, and a big bottle of Advil (or my bubble gum dispenser full of Advil, which I always take with me when I travel), it’s been a long time since I had one of those truly nasty hangovers that I remember from my younger days.

But even with the Advil, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to feel 100% the next day.

The Skimmington Castle in Reigate is a great place to visit the night before a flight to the states. It’s about a 10 quid taxi ride each way from London Gatwick airport, and relatively convenient if you stay at one of the airport hotels. But still, I don’t recommend an early morning flight the next day … noon is a bit more manageable.

Anyway, one morning, after a night on the cider at “the Skim“, I was boarding a British Airways flight back to the US. I was a fairly regular traveller, and I knew the routine.

I made my way to my assigned seat and sat down next to someone that had the worst body odor that I had ever encountered. (Well, maybe it was the second worst. There was another flight from London to Johannesburg on South African Airways where I was seated next to a most malodorous fellow. Back then, they still allowed smoking on those flights … so combine body odor with cigarette smoke on a 12 hour flight … and you can bet the air sickness bags were deployed. It was kind of like the scene of the pie eating contest in “Stand By Me”, except for the fact that none of the vomiting was projectile.)

Let’s see … where was I?

People were still boarding the plane, and I tried to block out the odor, but I couldn’t. (My mind wandered back to that flight to Johannesburg, and I made sure that an ample stock of air sickness bags were at the ready.)

After a few more minutes passed, I knew I had to do something. I got up and walked to the back of the plane. I handed my boarding stub to a flight attendant and said, “I know this is a full flight. But I am sitting next to someone with the worst body odor that I have ever encountered in my life. And I need to find somewhere else to sit. I don’t care if it’s a middle seat, I don’t care where the seat is … next to the toilets has got to be even better than where I’m at.”

The flight attendant told me that indeed the flight was very full, but he would see what he could do. I went back to my seat.

A few minutes later, a different flight attendant approached me and said “Sir, we’ve found another seat for you, if you would still like to relocate.” I quickly grabbed my carry-on and said thank you.

As we walked forward, my hopes rose a bit, thinking maybe it was my lucky day, and I was going to score an upgrade out of the process.

Alas, we stopped in the next section of economy, and the flight attendant pointed me to a row of 3 empty seats in middle section of the plane. She explained, “These seats are reserved as crew rest seats. We will not be using them today. So after take off, if you like, you can pull the arm rests up, stretch out across the seats, and pull this curtain around the seats for some privacy.”

“Thank you,” I managed … as I looked up and pondered the bit about pulling the curtain around the seats. I was well familiar with the trick of finding an empty row of 3 seats (or better yet, 4 on a 747), and putting up the arm rests to lay down and sleep during the flight. I was lucky enough to be on a relatively empty flight from Hong Kong to Vancouver one time when I discovered that secret. And since that time, for overnight flights from the US to Europe, I would always wait until near the last to board, asking the gate agent if they could find me a row of 3 seats to stretch out in during the flight. Even on fuller flights, there would often be an unused row in the back that was available, and my luck was pretty good with this approach. But this curtain bit was a new one to me.

A few more minutes passed, and another flight attendant came up and approached me. I assume this was a more senior flight attendant, probably either the one in charge of this particular cabin, or the cabin services director for the plane. She repeated pretty much the same thing that I had been told before when I was led to these seats. “These seats are reserved as crew rest seats. We will not be using them today. So after take off, if you like, you can pull the arm rests up, stretch out across the seats, and pull this curtain around the seats for some privacy.”

Again, I said “Thank you,” and thought about what a strange experience this was.

A few more minutes pass, and another flight attendant escorts another passenger to my row, and sits him at the other end of my 3 seat block. So much for stretching out and taking a nap today I thought.

Less than a minute later, another flight attendant approaches the chap at the other end of my 3 seat block and tells him, “Sir, I’m sorry, but these are crew rest seats. I know that my colleague told you that you could move here, but we have to keep these seats free. So, you’re going to have to return to your original seat.”

After escorting the other passenger back to his other seat, that flight attendant returns, leans over and tells me “These seats are reserved as crew rest seats. We will not be using them today. So after take off, if you like, you can pull the arm rests up, stretch out across the seats, and pull this curtain around the seats for some privacy.”

“Alright, thanks,” I manage to say out loud. But in my head, I’m starting to wonder if actually I’m the one with the body odor problem. It was a long night on the cider at the Skim, but I had managed a shower that morning … didn’t I?

The flight takes off, and before long, I was moving the seat arm rests up and stretching out across the seats to take a nap. As I lay there, before nodding off, I looked up at the curtain, but thought it was just too weird for me to pull the curtain around my seats. As I drifted in and out of consciousness before falling asleep for a good 5 or 6 hours, at some point I noticed that the curtain had been pulled around the seats for me.

It was a great flight. Thank you British Airways. I wish I could reserve similar flight accomodations for every flight that I take after a night at the Skim.

We understand that both cities have been alerted, and are in the final stages of preparation.

The secret tunnels of the Gollem in Amsterdam have been replenished with a supply of Westvleteren 12 (we hope anyway).

The Delrium Cafe in Brussels has an extra supply of restroom cleaning solvent in case Keef decides to give the Kasteel Blond another try. (I’m convinced that this instance was a bad bottle, as I was there when Keef drank 10 of these one evening in Popperinge … matching me drink for drink as I enjoyed the Westmalle Tripel. I’ll never forget the end of that particular evening when Keef remarked to me how glad he was that he was drinking something light and not trying to match me on the Westmalle Tripel. And I remember then explaning to him how the Kasteel, even the Blond, was an 11% beer, while the Westmalle Tripel was only around 9%.)

As the date draws near, we await the answers to many of life’s great questions (and the side betting action) …

Who will be the first to fall asleep in public? Where will it occur?

Who will be the first to chunder? Where will it occur? (My money is on me, as I’ve jinxed myself by mentioning the Keef episode above.) Will they order another drink afterward, or call it a night?

Can anyone make it to the 4am closing time at the Delirium for 3 consecutive nights?

Is Arjan still the bartender at Cafe Belgique? (And if he is, will we still remember his name when we finally arrive, or will we ask him all over again?)

He was also famous for his oft-repeated line, “I work for a small company, and I don’t have an expense account.”

Nonetheless, Martin was a good laugh … and despite the lack of an expense account, a relatively inexpensive drinking companion. That’s because Martin could clear a tray of canopes faster than anyone else that I’ve ever known. Yes, he knew where the free drinks and grub could be found if there was a trade show anywhere in the area.

Alas, free canopes and drink were in short supply in Kashiwa, Japan. But we were happy to pick up the tab at the local kobe steakhouse.

My favorite Martin G story was an evening out after a trade show in Seville, Spain.

The previous evening, Martin (who had apparently finally gotten an expense account, or possibly stolen someone else’s credit card) had taken me to an endless series of Tapas Bars … ordering everything on the menu, and devouring it in haste … before moving on to the next Tapas Bar.

But this evening, coming after the close of the trade show, would be a diet of liquid sustenance. Faced with a 7:30am flight the next morning, I tried to escape shortly after midnight. With no taxis to be found, Martin suggested that we walk to the hotel where he had stayed the previous night, where there was a taxi rack. (And where was Martin staying that night? … in retrospect, I should have questioned that.) We walked for about an hour, and I was sober enough, that I recall Martin became very uncomfortable during that long walk, with tapas and canopes attempting to escape his massive digestive tracts. Thankfully he did not explode like Mr. Creosote, and we succesfully arrived at the hotel, which was complete with a taxi rack just as Martin promised.

Martin suggested that we should have a nightcap at the hotel bar after he relieved the pressures of his bowels. The imagery was more than a bit unpleasant, but being the suggestive sort, and always up for another drink, not to mention parched from the hour’s walk, I stumbled to the bar and ordered a couple of beers and two shots of something tough. (A bad habit that I picked up from ColiniAL.) If Martin had suggested that we have a wafer-thin mint, I would have passed.

A couple of hours passed, and the hotel bar issued their last call.

At that point, I mentioned to Martin that it hardly seemed worthwhile to go back to my hotel and sleep before my flight, as I would probably never wake up to leave the hotel in time. He told me that he knew just what to do … we walked out to the cab rack, and Martin told the driver to take us to an all night club. The dance music was horrible, but it was numbed by more shots of something tough. At about 6:30, I realized that I still needed to get back to my hotel to pack my bag and make it to the airport.

I made the flight. And I got a good 2 hours kip on the flight back to London.

There are probably cheaper places that my luggage could have stayed that evening. But as with every morning that came after an evening out with Martin G, I was just happy to still be alive.

As the next Amsterdam trip draws ever nearer I feel it is my obligation to talk about my first trip to this holy place.

It was 1993 and I was but a lad of 24. I had made some very interesting international friends during my travels with Infinite Technologies, but none more interesting than Lance. Lance, or the “World’s Horniest Oompa Loompa” as we are fond of recalling him, was a chirpy British fellow of demure stature with an intense voyeuristic urge.

We discovered early on that we both shared of love of music. As it turns out, his parent’s lived in Redding, a mere stones throw from where the Redding Music Festival is held each year. It was agreed that my first trip to Europe should be to see this festival and to spend some quality time hanging out in England. Well, Redding Festival was great fun. I saw Green Day when no one cared about them, Soundgarden when people were just starting to care, and even Neil Young with Pearl Jam as his back-up band. I also saw local bands like CUSM (Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine) who I have a fondness for, and the now Drinking Team favorite Reef who you should go check out RIGHT NOW. Ah, but this tale isn’t about rock n roll … at least, not anymore.

During this ten day trip we had exhausted London, seen all of Redding, and still had a long weekend to kill. Lance suggested we take a drive over to Amsterdam for a few days or relaxation and recreation. “Amsterdam?” I said, naively. “Where the Hell is Amsterdam?” and he quickly pointed out that this historic city in Holland was quite the tourist destination. Being eager and pretty much open to anything not involving prison rape, I agreed and we were off.

I don’t remember much about that first trip other than I now dream of the place and wish to return there every chance I get. All I know is that we parked the car, walked into the center of town, and I immediately went into party overload. I felt like the brothers from Night At The Roxbury when they are first allowed into Mr. Zadir’s nightclub. “Pace yourself!” I cried inside … but to no avail. We arrived at 5pm and I was flat on my back, at the hotel, staring at the ceiling and trying to “make it stop” by 8pm.

The next day I awoke at the crack of noon and Lance, ever the goer, was ready to start fresh. I felt like the inside of a bus station urinal, but Lance knowingly suggested that a delicious Belgian beer would set everything “right as rain”, as he put it. There was wisdom in that little fella. I don’t remember the rest of the evening, but I remember that next beer … it was Duvel, and I love it to this day. The first sip was hell and the next forty were heaven. I was BACK!

Our two day trip ended up lasting four, and we slept on two inch foam pads in the scariest youth hostel on earth. We drank all day, smoked all night, and even explored Lance’s fondness for “Watchin’ a bloke shag some bird” … a quote that would later define him.

I’ve had more fun in Amsterdam since … it’s always more fun once you are a seasoned vet … and I’ve forgotten a good many trips there. Ah, but I’ll never forget that first trip. Like entering Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory for the first time, or what it must’ve felt like to step onto the moon. Yes, I took a good many years off my life that weekend, but hell, I wasn’t using them anyway.