The Blonde, The Blanche and The Ambrée: The Grimbergen range.

Few things bring me more joy than a nice bottle of beer, but if there's one thing that does, it's three bottles:

These bad boys and the chalice they were destined for came into my possession long ago when everyone in the northern hemisphere was in the throes of winter, and yet it's taken me until now to sip my way through the trio, starting with the lightest in a temperate April and ending with the darkest in the unrelenting heat of a Murcian June - perhaps not the most logical sequence as far as matching beer with season goes, although the colours did follow the same pattern as my ever toasting skin. 

Obernai's former region of Alsace
within France. (Part of the new
Grand Est region since 2016)

Grimbergen beer has been going, in one way or another, since the dark Medieval days of 1128 - although since starting its life as a monk-brewed abbey beer in Belgium, the periodic accident and conflict-driven destruction of the abbey followed by several commercial takeovers in more recent times means the beer, now brewed partly in Belgium and partly in France, probably differs somewhat from what the Norbertine monks of Grimbergen used to get sozzled on with their guests. Indeed, the Belgian and French breweries even brew completely separate varieties (those coming from Belgium being mainly Blond, Dubbel and Tripel), meaning that the beers in my box were sure to have come from the Kronenbourg brewery in Obernai, France. Just call me the Beer Detective.

But no beer is complete without a story, and as the monks' use of the phoenix would imply, rebirth is a significant aspect of this beer's identity - so if the legend at the very least has managed to be kept alive over the course of almost a whopping nine centuries, then all the better. 

Onto the beers:

Blonde 6.7%

She pours a perfect golden amber with a dense, bright fluffy head and, as with all of Grimbergen's beers, looks particularly fine in the beer's own purpose-made chalice. 

It had been a long time since I'd tasted the delights of a Belgian-style ale and the distinctly Belgian whiff of spicy clove that wafted up from my chalice's bowl was a stark reminder of where this brew was born. Along with these spicy notes there were plenty of hints of toffee and caramel malt on the nose giving me a clue as to what was to come. 
After a gulp or two, malty depth came through peppered with spicy clove, broken up ever so slightly by a hint of bitter citrus, followed by a floral, soapy aftertaste. 

For its high ABV it goes down nice and easily, and since it's got plenty of depth you can afford to sup on it chilled without fear of compromising on flavour.

Blanche 6%

The Blanche pours an opaque pale straw colour with a small head that fizzled out quicker than I could snap it.

There's plenty going on on the nose with fragrant, perfumey and floral aromas seasoned with herbal notes and spicy clove, overall making for a fresh and complex first impression.

The fresh flavours of zesty citrus fruits and a strong presence of coriander and clove come through after a sip, but it soon becomes clear that where it exceeds in flavour it lacks in body and depth, almost a diluted version of what it could be.

Rather than a sipper to savour I'd call this an introduction to the style to be knocked back.

Double-Ambrée 6.5%

The darkest of the three, this pours a dark mahogany with a thin beige head.

I picked up the aromas of dark stone fruits and berries, even if they were a bit hesitant in coming forward.

The flavour doesn't disappoint, with rich, fruity woodland berries backed by sweet caramel, a hint of treacle and a dash of bitter coffee - a sweet, fruity experience with the welcome addition of an added 6.5% alcoholic warmth. 

As the aroma hadn't been so forthcoming I was pleasantly surprised by the taste. A touch more body could have brought more depth to the flavours, but overall of the three in the set, the double-ambrée is the brew I'm fondest of. Santé!

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Grimbergen's Website
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Pajiza Black (4.5%) - Trinitaria, Murcia, Spain

Just over a year since moving to the predominantly cold and wet northwest Spanish region of Galicia and after a brief stint back in Blighty, I've migrated back to a very different part of the Ibeerian Peninsula: the contrastingly arid and scorched plains of Murcia. 

My path to accommodation was a desperate one, one which involved me pacing the length and breadth of the city of Murcia in over 30-degree heat for no fewer than three full weeks. But once I'd secured a roof over my head, I had the chance to explore my new neighbourhood at my own leisure, and one particular establishment I was delighted to have found, a mere few minutes away on foot, was a shop specialising in craft beer. And what with all that walking, I had worked up quite a thirst.

My first and only, highly-disciplined single purchase was a deliberately local one in the spirit of celebrating my new region. Pajiza Black (or "black straw" as far as I can deduce) comes from a small Murcian town called Torre-Pacheco, and as the brewers are keen to point out is the very first dark beer, inspired by Irish dry stouts, to have hailed from the town (although that's perhaps not such a surprise being the town's only brewery).

As promised it pours an inky jet-black, although less expectedly an almighty, bubbling cappuccino-coloured head erupts before slowly fizzling down to a gorgeous, spiralling, creamy, foamy layer. To enjoy the spectacle again, a little swirl of the glass is all it takes to reactivate it for your viewing pleasure.

Having released the brew's aromas following all that swirling action, bitter coffee and dark chocolate are present on the nose from the dark roasted malts, subtle though they might be. 

Going in for a slurp, the bitter flavours of dark roasted malts are accompanied by a creamy backing that call to mind a café con leche, complimented by a hint of hazelnut that comes through gently. Just when you thought that was it, a potent, bright citrus hop lifts the palate bringing in a refreshing, fruity finish.

While it could do with being ever so slightly smoother, this medium-bodied dry stout remains highly quaffable, helped by the modest ABV.

In a climate with a year-round average daily high of 25 degrees it's a wonder that there could be any demand for dark, top-fermented beers, but the clever use of malts and hops give it a character that sets it apart from your typical stout, and on a muggy October evening as a first experience of a Murcian small-batch beer, it went down well with me. 

Appearance 5/5 

Aroma 2/5

Flavour 3.5/5
Mouthfeel 3/5 

Overall rating 7/10

Trinitaria's website
Trinitaria on Facebook
Trinitaria on TV:

Where to buy:

2,15 EUR on Verema

Demo Neghro Extra Stout (6.5%) - Cervexa Menduiña, Galicia, Spain

As we enter April and springtime makes a leisurely and largely hesitant return to Lugo, Spain, I realise seven months into my residency here that I imported my beer-hoarding tendencies with me, having developed a sizeable collection and now not knowing where most of it even came from.

Fancying something to match the current climate, I picked this out. Whereas in this part of the world many of the artisan beer offerings have been established relatively recently, to my surprise it turned out that Menduiña is no newcomer to the craft beer scene. They've been squirting out barrels of cervexa since 2008, which by modern standards practically makes them craft beer veterans.

Hailing from Pontevedra, a coastal town in the region of Galicia, the brewery's aim is to "reclaim a part of the lost culture of our ancestors" by reviving what the ancient dwellers of these lands would have drunk without fear of being labelled barbarians before those poncey wino Romans came along. I very much doubt they would have been drinking 6.5% stout, but this is where the brewery's innovation comes into play.

Pictured on the matt, textured label is the very "Black Devil" that inspires the beer's Galician name, grimacing sardonically over a bottle of the good stuff. Interestingly the pagan Celts knew no Devil before the pesky Romans arrived, so this mischievous character seems to be one influence they were happy to keep. 

The beer pours an luscious jet black with a stunning cushion of coffee-coloured head that leaves a wonderful lacing down the glass. 

On the nose it's impressively fragrant for a stout with aromas of dark chocolate, coffee and a sweetness from the added Galician honey coming through immediately. The smell is so moreish in its own right, in fact, that I almost couldn't bring myself to tear my schnoz away from it to go in for a sip.

But of course I did, and the few glugs I ingested were a silky smooth, full-bodied delight. It has qualities of smoky, woody, dark roasted malts and some herbal hoppy notes that add balance with a bitterness, ending in a dry, nutty finish. Owing to the high ABV, a mellow alcoholic warmth is ever so slightly present.

On the brewery's recommendation I paired this with a few cubes of chocolate negro. This particular chocolate was on the lower end of the bitterness scale at 55% cocoa, and so while the bitterness of the chocolate complimented the roasted characteristics of the beer, at the same time they offset each other to leave the sweeter malty flavours, as well as the more herbal of the hoppy flavours to surface. Whichever way you have it, this is a devilishly good brew.

I have another offering from this brewery lurking in my special, top-secret beer place, so you'll be seeing more from me on them in the near future.

Spanish National Beer Championship 
2015 Bronze award winner

Appearance 5/5

Aroma 5/5

Flavour 4/5

Mouthfeel 4/5

Overall rating 9/10

Menduiña's website: http://www.menduina.eu/

The Ibeerian Peninsula: Estrella Galicia

Happy New Beer! \~/

A new year has dawned (it's fair to say I'm a bit late on that one) and it's time for me to dust the cobwebs off my keyboard and continue my valiant efforts to sample as many hopped, yeast-fermented malt beverages as I can for the benefit of humankind.

Previously conducting my precious research from a little corner of south east England, I've now upped sticks to a mystical territory known as Galicia in north west Spain. Such a move would have always lead to numerous changes to my lifestyle, but the one I was most concerned about, of course, was the selection and availability of beer. 

Since I first stepped foot on Galicia's astoundingly fertile green and pleasant land, it was clear that my drinking habits would have to adapt substantially to the local drinking culture. For a start, beer to a Galician normally means one thing: Estrella Galicia by Hijos de Rivera brewery, a 110-year-old family-owned brewery which squirts out 100 million barrels a year and has all but monopolised beer consumption in this area. There isn't a bar, cafe or restaurant in this part of Spain that doesn't serve it (bar the odd trend-bucker), and if you're after an alternative then more often than not your choice will consist of another offering by the same brewery. 

So for a start, my days of entering a pub and standing at the bar, quietly and agonisingly perusing the labels on the beer fonts before deciding which local or guest ale I should order were decidedly over. "Una caña" (referring to the measure of a small draught) is all I had to ask for now, and soon after a 250ml glass (give or take) of a sparkling, golden, foamy Estrella Galicia would be plonked down in front of me by default most of the time. 

Indeed, when you order a beer in Spain there's no need to even mention beer: ask for a cerveza (or a cervexa in Galicia's local lingo) and you'll be asked how much of it you want, not which kind you want. If a caña doesn't do it for you then a media will get you 330ml, a sorry amount by UK standards but, believe it or not, as much as most Spaniards care to go for at a time. In fact, if a different measure is to be had then it's usually even less than a caña, a 200ml quinto. My British sensibilities were highly affected by these unthinkable measures at first: who orders less than a pint, and who orders even less than less than a pint? It soon occurred to me, though, that a caña fits the Spanish pace of life perfectly, especially when the locals happily sip away from lunchtime and bars don't start to close until 3am (sometimes with you still in them).

What of Estrella Galicia, then? It's a lager (no surprises there) and so shares the same characteristics that all lagers aim for, best described in terms of sensation rather than flavour: clean and refreshing, even if the climate in this corner of Green Spain doesn't always call for it.

A caña with a tapa (free bar snack) in Lugo, Galicia

Prejudices against mass-produced lager aside, after five months of this as my go-to beverage (if you can't beat them, join them) I could almost say I've found it a useful exercise - shock horror - in fine-tuning the taste buds in a desperate attempt to pick up on whatever vague hints of flavour I can, and if the monotony of constant lager consumption hasn't caused me to fall victim to delusional taste hallucinations, I'd go as far as to say a distinctive malty nuttiness is present. It is, I swear it is.

Encouragingly, Hijos de Rivera have a few more ambitious offerings under their 1906 label for those who fancy dipping their toes in something with a bit more character.

1906 Reserva Especial (6.5%) is a full-bodied strong lager with a primarily bitter flavour from the Nugget hops, a slight pepperiness and a hint of toasted malts.

1906 Red Vintage (8%) is malty with a bitterness that seeks to counteract a slight spirity alcoholic flavour coming from the high ABV. A gentle burn is present but it remains drinkable on the whole. 


1906 Black Coupage (7.2%) is the black sheep of the family which is intended to be served at the higher temperature of 6-8 degrees to bring out the flavours of the four malts and two hops. With roasted coffee, chocolate and licorice flavours you'd expect from a porter but almost all the crispness of a lager, Black pushes the boat out even as a bottom-fermented beer, and although super dark lagers have always seemed a bit of a contradiction to me I must give this one an A for effort. Not that it needs it from me, because all of the above beers have already bagged themselves tons of awards (although most of them have gone to the other three).

Albeit Hijos de Rivera's bevvies are the most popular beers in Galicia, I've been relieved and excited to discover a significant minority of local and regional small-batch offerings along the way that are gradually making their presence felt here. These will be my focus from now on, but for now by way of a preview I leave you with my ramblings on a Galician pale ale called Loura by Aloumiña brewery in Lugo. Salud! \~/

Sierra Nevada Porter (5.6%) - Sierra Nevada Brewing Co., California, USA

I don't think there's any style of beer I don't like (although I may eat my words when I get round to reviewing the lambic that's been lurking in my beer crate for almost a year) but even though I see no reason why all beer styles can't be enjoyed all year round, I do tend to seek out light, refreshing beers in the summer and leave darker, more wholesome beers to the colder months (which represents about 90% of the British year), leaving porters and stouts to the very darkest depths of winter. So what to do when it's pushing 30 degrees and a box of lovingly pre-selected beers lands on your doorstep containing a porter? Well, just get on with it, of course.

It's worth pointing out first of all to any UK-based readers that Sierra Nevada Brewing Company has been part of the craft beer revolution since 1980. No newcomers are these, then, but veterans that have been bucking the trend long before the UK jumped on the beery bandwagon, and what better brewery to choose for this blog's first American beer review!

The label has the classic-looking design of a beverage you might have found in a Wild Western saloon and the bottle itself is the iconic shape unique to Sierra Nevada Brewing Company. As probably the sexiest kind of beer in terms of appearance, there's a certain level of expectation I'm sure everyone has when pouring a porter. Sierra Nevada Porter pours a deep, rich colour that allows only a ruby-treacle light to glow through faintly, crowned by a thick, fluffy off-white head that leaves behind some spectacular lacing.

Sticking your nose into the glass brings rich roasted malt aromas with hints of coffee, with an added freshness from the whole-cone hops. Somehow a creaminess can be picked up through the nose alone, that almost gives the sensation of smelling a milky coffee.

The roasted qualities picked up on the nose are back in full force on the tongue, along with a bitter chocolatey, bittersweet, burnt toffee flavour. There are hints of berries in there too, as well as a unique juicy resinous quality that I'm not used to getting from a porter but that rounds the flavour off marvellously. 


Medium-bodied and creamy but with a dry, crisp finish, this porter has a drinkability that can even be enjoyed at the height of an English summer, and its perfectly balanced flavour and remarkably fresh, hoppy finish will undoubtedly make this a winner for porter fans. Anyone on the garden fence about porters so far, prepare to be shoved off it!

Appearance 5/5
Aroma 3/5
Flavour 4.5/5
Mouthfeel 4/5
Overall 8/10