Belgian Abbey and Trappist Ale

By Lucas Ballinger
Contributing Writer

Last year, towards the end of our far-too-quick and relatively bland summer, I ventured west on the bus with bicycle in tow to Baldhill Dam of Lake Ashtabula. This is a lake of my childhood and I was feeling rather existential and wanted to do some soul searching, which I equate to fishing. I jumped off the bus in Valley City, purchased some food, bait and other amenities. I headed north on my bicycle the ten miles to the dam. Once there, I set up camp and managed to squeeze in an hour of fishing before sunset.

Settling in to my campfire with the darkness of the night and the isolation I’d been seeking, I opened a bottle of Trappistes Rochefort #10 purchased in Fargo. Realizing I had forgotten to bring a glass to allow the ale to open, I walked quickly to the bait shop nearby and they obligingly offered me the most appropriate cup made of Styrofoam. I accepted thankfully and felt my way back to camp (I’d forgotten to bring a flashlight).

Under the irascible light of my campfire, I poured the majority of the small bottle (only 11.2 oz.) of this huge dark strong ale into the precarious Styrofoam with care and excitement. I waited patiently to allow the head to dissipate slightly so I could empty the rest of the bottle in.

I turned to set the bottle opener down on the table and brushed the cup with my sleeve, spilling this beautiful and holy beast of a beer across the table, giving it a new sticky lacquer of my carelessness.

It was as if the spiritual history of Belgian ales manifested itself in that Styrofoam cup and knew that it wouldn’t be fully appreciated under such circumstances. In my utter despair, I took a look around, sulking, saw dark, heard silence and proceeded to pour the rest of this mysterious liquid into my cup, sipping with a deep meditative and spiritual contemplation.

These beers and their makers have been keeping this unique style alive for more than 300 years, much like religion itself. They have a tradition that began with the natives of the land of the Belgae, making simple beers in the 1st century BC, and continued through the Middle Ages when self-sufficient monasteries established their own breweries. Using such exotic ingredients as barley sugar, herbs, fruits and spices, these beers would make any Bavarian brewer run for the Reinheitsgebot.

Today, fewer than 100 breweries are active in Belgium, compared to approximately 3000 at the beginning of the 20th century. Industrialization, mergers, takeovers, and the post-World War II trend to pilsner-style beers (yes, even in Belgium did the pilsner style take hold) have had their effects.

The great monastic brewing tradition has survived in seven Trappist monasteries. 6 located in Belgium being Orval, Chimay, Westvleteren, Rochefort, Westmalle and Achel; and Koningshoeven in The Netherlands. These, and only these beers are made by or under the control of a Trappist Monastery, and are lawfully able to be labeled as Trappist and bear the Authentic Trappist Product logo.

Breweries that make Abby Ales, brewed in secular brew houses, have been quite resourceful in their use of labeling and advertising to associate themselves with historic monastic orders. Basically, Abby Ales can be thought of in two categories: the ones legitimately associated with a monastic order and the ones that aren’t. Abby Ales are not defined by style necessarily. Competition and control has been very strong throughout the history of this tradition.

Ironically, today, despite its history of beer culture, Belgium has not proven to be an easy environment for young artisan brewers to start a new venture. Distribution is difficult, with the dominant brewing conglomerates in control (sounds familiar, right?). Maybe Lucifer has been making friends around the monastery brewpub.

In America, there has been a rapidly growing interest in craft beer. The Trappist brewing process has been used by a scattering of independent artisan brewers in unique and very aggressive ways that have given the style lots of mystique, and aroused curiosity. The full-bodied and complex character develops within each continuing sip, with aromas running from dark caramel, cinnamon and vanilla bean to horse barnyard and leather, to name a few. Flavor profiles that change throughout the experience include raisin, citrus, chocolate, coffee, molasses, cherry, and even soap. The more favored malt sweetness, used instead of hop bitterness, is balanced with the heightened alcohol content warmth, which ranges from 6% up towards a slow and very religiously ascetic 12% or higher.

People have found increasing satisfaction not only in the quality ingredients that independent brewing has standardized, but in challenging flavor profiles and alcohol-by-volume beyond the usual other-end-of-the-cooler variety to even three quarters of the way down the cooler to even the warm shelf.

There are many breweries producing the Abbey Style, including Unibroue’s Trois Pistoles, Avery Brewing Company’s Salvation Tripel and The Reverend Quad, Flying Dog’s Kerberos Tripel and Horn Dog Barleywine. Even Boulevard Brewing Co. produce a tripel and quad in their recently released Smokestack series.

The connections and history of the monastic tradition have a strong romanticism that allows quiet meditation with the cosmos and within oneself when enjoying a dark strong ale made by isolated, dogmatic men who have devoted a life to introspection and heavenly contemplation. As a reward, the Higher Power granted them the wisdom and passion to brew some of the finest beers on earth.

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