Fruit and beer.

For many people, the two concepts don’t belong together. For example, one of my ex-colleagues had a letter published in Viz which sneered at the whole concept of a “lager top” as being the Southern softy drink of shandy under a euphemistic name.

Funny though the letter was, I don’t think he was altogether right. OK, it’s a shame to spoil a decent ale by pouring half a pint of R. White’s into it. Snakebite destroys the lager, the cider, and half of your braincells at a stroke. And Guinness and blackcurrant is an abomination.

But there are plenty of respectable beers on the Continent which involve fruit in some way. Take Hoegaarden, for one. Wheat beer is nice enough in itself, but adding that Curaçao orange peel to the process gives the drink a zing which makes it perfect for sitting outside on a summer’s day.

The Belgians seem to be particularly big on fruit in beer. Kriek, the beer made with cherries, is probably the most famous instance of this.

Just now I’ve been drinking a bottle of framboise, or frambozenbier if you’re in Flanders rather than Wallonia; beer flavoured with raspberries. Like Hoegaarden, it’s a great drink for summer – it’s refreshing and has a pleasant zing to it which really helps take the heat off. (Pity it’s a bit on the pricey side, though on the other hand that does mean you’re less likely to gulp it down in industrial quantities and be totally wasted by dinnertime.)

The Germans do something very similar in Berlin, called Weiße mit Schuss. But in the German case they simply add raspberry syrup to the finished beer, whereas the Belgians use real raspberries in the brewing process. Nice though Weiße mit Schuss can be, it’s not got the bite that framboise has. It’s a bit stickier, too.

So the message seems to be: Don’t knock the idea of fruity beer until you’ve tried it; but if you’re going to do it, do it properly, with real fruit, not rubbish with additives and colourings.

There are a few hidden traps for vegetarians who may not be aware that animal products may have been used in the production of certain foods and drinks.

Wine is one such example, which many people just assume is vegetarian. But it may or may NOT be vegetarian. It depends on how the wine was produced and what finings were used in the production process.

The only way you could be sure of it being vegetarian is if you could find wine specifically labelled as being vegetarian wine.

According to Wikipedia: “Finings are substances that are usually added at or near the completion of the processing of wine, beer and various non-alcoholic juice beverages.” So even fruit juice isn’t necessarily “safe” – yet another trap for the unwary vegetarian.

Wiki also says: “Historically, various substances such as egg whites, blood, milk, and Irish moss have been used as finings. These are still used by some producers, but more modern substances have also been introduced and are more widely used, including isinglass, bentonite, gelatin, casein, carrageenan…

“…In the absence of ‘animal products used here’ labels, vegetarians may be unaware that the processing of a commercially produced beverage may have utilized animal based finings: either gelatin, casein, albumen, or isinglass.”

Given the rise in interest in vegetarianism and the strictness of accurate labelling these days, perhaps there’s a strong case to be made for introducing “animal products used here” labels.

For more information about finings see:
Wikipedia: Finings

The BBC also have a good article about the increasing availability of vegetarian and vegan wines and other drinks in supermarkets:
BBC - Food - Vegetarian and vegan wine and drinks

We’ve looked at “white” or wheat beer already in Part 1, so now let’s move on to the more widely-drunk, “standard” Belgian beers: the “blonds” – broadly speaking, lighter, more lager-like beers – and the browns, which are maltier and more like English mild or German Altbier. (And no, there don’t seem to be any redheads – unless of course you count kriek, the cherry-flavoured beer…)

Blond beer
(blond bier/bière blonde)

Leffe Blonde/Blond

Leffe’s one of the better-known Belgian breweries (it’s an abbey beer), and this is one of their two best-sellers. It’s a fairly typical lager colour, or perhaps a little darker. There’s not as much aroma to it as, for instance, Hoegaarden, though the smell’s more like white beer than lager. When cold the flavour’s mellow, almost syrupy, a little like barley wine. Let it warm a little, and it becomes much more interesting – again, vaguely reminiscent of white beer.

Maredsous 6° Blond/Blonde

Brewed by Brouwerij Duvel Moortgat (the same company that produces the far better-known Duvel – see below), under licence from the Maredsous Abbey (who are Benedictines, not Trappists). The “6°” in the name refers to a traditional Belgian beer-grading system. In this case, Maredsous’s 6° equates to 6% ABV. It’s darker than Leffe Blond – more of a tawny or amber colour. Really not much aroma to speak of at all. But it makes up for that in the taste; it’s fairly close to an English bitter, with hints of smokiness and dryness. Think of the best homebrew you can imagine (and we’ve had some excellent ones in our time) and you’re not far off.

Palm Export

We weren’t sure whether this one really belonged with the blond beers at all; for starters, the label says that the main ingredient is maize! (There’s no mention of maize on the website – perhaps it’s a translation error?) The colour’s darker still than Maredsous – it really does look like a British bitter, or as if it’s had a little caramel added for colour (though there’s no mention of it on the label). There’s a faint maltiness in the aroma, which is much more pronounced when you come to drink it. Definitely an ale rather than a lager – and their website confirms that it’s top-fermented – though well on the refreshing side; like an IPA, perhaps.

Brown beers
(bruin bier/bière brune)

Leffe Brune/Bruin

Leffe’s brown beer is a rich brown colour with a hint of ruby about it. Surprisingly for something with such a strong colour, there’s very little to smell of it, at least when it’s cold. Another surprise is the sharpness; you’d really expect something much more mellow. Yet underneath the sharpness, there’s a lovely rich chocolate flavour, with plenty of maltiness. Much more memorable than the Leffe Blonde, I’d have to say.