Brewgodly - Part 2: Trappist Traditions

The monks of Mt Angel Abbey make great beer. Their dubbel, St. Gabriel 2.0, is a strong, dark ale balanced beautifully with dark malt character and classic Belgian yeast esters. You don’t find many trappist breweries outside of Europe and yet they do exist. Some like Benedictine Brewery started brewing only seven years ago despite the abbey’s creation in 1882. They make beer to be enjoyed “in gatherings of food and fellowship, nourishing both the body and the spirit.” Self-sufficiency has been at the heart of monastic communities for centuries and normally they  produce only enough to help support their basic needs and use ingredients they grow themselves and water found on site. They are simply not motivated to make more money regardless of the material wealth or market share that might be gained. Their priority? “Beer with a higher purpose.”

But it’s just beer right? Well, not in their world. Or mine. For me, brewing in the depths of rural Congo (and the hardships of high ambient temperatures) or London (and the travails of hard water and the gritty city), it has always been about more than just good beer. These days, especially in Portland, Oregon, if you throw a stone from anywhere in the city, you will hit at least one brewery and it will be serving great beer. I guess that could be enough. But should it be? Something tells me that a sated craft beer lust isn’t enough. What of deeper purpose and community?

Mt Angel beer is not the best by world standards and certainly can’t match the finest breweries in this part of America, but that’s not the point. It has a quality which makes it excel in ways difficult to define. It is connected to tradition and sustainable ways of living which are profoundly good (even as the Catholic Church is sullied by paedophilic disgrace). There is an evocative incarnational aspect which means it transcends the approach taken by most breweries. Some might say it has heart.

What goes in comes out somehow. Can you taste a prayer? Does motivation matter? The monks believe it does. I agree.

For the love of beer,

brewgodly

Brewgodly - Part 1: Betty Beaverton

Betty Beaverton riffs off Beavertown’s Black Betty (Black IPA, 7.4% abv) like Logan Plant in the footsteps of his father. The immense Led Zeppelin frontman’s son toured as a rocker across the US with Sons of Albion, but beer is where he found his groove. My take on Black Betty (forget obvious pop references about ramming lambs) is a bigger version of this wonderful beer and brewed stateside in Beaverton, Oregon. A larger bill of the same grains was used and followed by an aggressive hop regime using the same varietals. The result is a solid beer brewed with a dark, robust malt structure of which my London counterparts would be proud. 

As much as it grieves me that Beavertown would accept money from  big, multi-national beverage producers, until recently largely disinterested in high quality or tasty beer, their control of tap lines means that if Black Betty replaced a mediocre lager, it would be a win for good beer. Big isn’t always bad, but when it comes to beer (and a great many other things), ownership by international corporations is very rarely good news for the product or people who drink it. But maybe a new brewery could only be paid for by a huge conglomerate. Only time will tell if the soul of Beavertown will live on and whether those who love their beer will continue to do so now that Heineken is under its skin. It may infect everything or a beautiful hybrid strain may emerge. It will certainly not remain the same but such is life my friends. I guess record companies always held sway over the manufacturing of music and so I wonder if brewing beer is really much different.

For the love of beer,

brewgodly