1 July
When Craig's aunt Barbara joined us in March (see previous blog entry "Barbie, Beer and Babies!") for the Belgian Beer Festival, we toured around lots of small brewery towns, trying to find good local beers. This is really not very hard in Belgium. One of our favorite places was a tiny town called Tourpes, home of the Dupont brewery. When we arrived, the brewery was closed, so we went into the nearest pub (across the street and three doors up) to sample the brew.
It was one of those places where everyone turns around when you walk in. Unfazed, we grabbed a table between two groups. I can't remember if it was a look, or if they actually asked "Why are you here?", but when we explained that it was all about the beer, the parties at the tables on either side of us got pretty excited about telling us which was the best Dupont offering.
Problem was, they couldn't agree.
Was it the Moinette? Or the Saison? We tried the Saison, which prompted the supporters of the Moinette to grab another glass from the bar and pour us a bit of their favorite. (Everyone drinks out of 750 ml bottles here, because the beer is better that way.)
A few days later, at the Dupont booth at the Belgian Beer Festival in Sant Niklaus, we met Gust Simons, the primary rep for Dupont. Of course, we relayed our wonderful experience in the local pub in Tourpes, and of course, he had his bar staff pour us samples of the entire Dupont line. Gust also gave us tips for places to eat and drink in Antwerp, near his hometown, and graciously offered to show us all the best breweries in Belgium!
So, more than three months later on our swing back through Belgium, we pulled out the list of Gust's suggestions when we found ourselves in Antwerp. And, on a mission to buy good beer after being in Scandinavia (land of yucky Carlsberg), we ended up, once again, in Tourpes. This time, the bar directly across from the brewery was open, so we went in and ordered a couple of drinks.
The bar is a family operation. We were served by the father, while his daughter showed off her new fuzzy black kitten to the people at the table behind us. The mother appeared from the back, hauling six or eight 750 ml bottles of beer at a time. Sooner or later, the family dog, a small black thing (named "Moinette," after the beer) wandered in to greet the guests.
We also met the town drunk, a small old man named Belo, who ordered his Moinette (which packs a punch at 8.5% alcohol) by the 750 ml bottle, and was shuttled to the patio out back to drink it. The "patio" is really a bit of cow field, made nicer for people by the addition of a few tables and chairs. When Belo came back inside for his second bottle, his shirt was speckled with dribbles from the bottom of his first, and he spent quite a bit of time complimenting the bar mother on her beauty.
When he came back for his third bottle, he started singing and dancing and couldn't really hold onto it, and spilled about a third of it on the floor. Immediately the bar father took away the bottle and shuttled Belo back outside and the bar mother grabbed the mop to clean up the mess. The daughter confided to us from behind the bar, "C'est triste, mais c'est d'habitude." After Belo was safely outside, the daughter got a lecture from the father about serving him the last bottle.
During these scenes, other things were happening. Germany was beating Argentina in a World Cup shootout. A group from the brewery across the street was gathered around a large table celebrating their secretary's birthday. A Belgian man (I recognized him from the other bar we stopped at months ago) was very excited to talk to some Americans. (He started in English, then realized we spoke French and spoke nice, slow French until he had a beer and then spoke fast French... I'm not sure exactly what we were agreeing to sometimes!). And a black goat kept wandering into the bar from the field out the back. The goat seemed very social. He would look around until he was noticed by the bar staff when he would be shooed back out the door. We learned later that his name was also "Belo".
Finally, Craig and I recognized someone else. Among the group celebrating the birthday, we saw Gust Simons, who we had met at the Belgian Beer Festival. He recognized us too (Craig is pretty unforgettable in these lands of short people with straight hair) and, after buying us a couple more drinks, he offered to take us on a beer tour next time we're in Belgium, then motioned me out to his car, and gave us a kilo of the brewery's cheese.
So, to all you beer lovers out there... next March is a great time to visit Belgium! Gust would love to show us around, and you can taste over 500 microbrews at the "24 hours of beer." We're there! Are you with us?
-SK
