CRUISING FOR BREWS
MetroHIM, Vol. 5, No. 3, 2008
Originally titled BREWS KO:
NOTES FROM AN ADVOCATE
RENATO REDENTOR CONSTANTINO

I’m a beer hunter, and I’ve been on the happy hunt for over two decades.

I’ve come across many of the weirdest beer creations ever created and I’ve also sampled some of the most beautiful, deliriously fascinating brews ever crafted in the modern world.

Have you ever tasted beer made from ampalaya? What about rose beer or green beer infused with spirulina? Ever had hemp beer? Beer made from chocolate or bananas? Have you ever tried ale of such exquisite quality that it can only be described as liquid cake giving off perfumes of cinnamon and clove?

It’s a magical world.

When I think of fine beers, I turn full-fledged Catholic and think of the great Trappiste beer Rochefort 10, brewed in St. Remy, Belgium. I think of the ancient brewing tradition of Ethiopia and Mongozo Brewery’s organic line, such as Quinua Beer. I think of Kinshimasamune’s Kyoto Hanamachi, a dry alt-beer, and I think of Brouwerij ‘t IJ’s great Amsterdam bio-triple Zatte. These are beers of love, but mind you there are legions more out there waiting to be experienced.

Oftentimes we judge beer for confused reasons. I’m a beer nut but I tell you it’s not always about aroma or flavor; sometimes it’s just the sense of place or time that a brew engenders. Beer Laos, for instance, tastes dismal until the Mekong is in sight. Then there are memory beers such as San Miguel Brewery’s unparalleled Pale Pilsen.

There’s more to life than just tea-like lager but you need to know where the right Philippine menu or grocery shelf is. Here’s a couple that can give you a head start. I chose the outlets based on their accessibility and I selected better beers that I felt were representative of certain styles - think of them as baselines, which means quality can only go up.

Beer from Belgium at Unimart. Belgium has thousands of different beer brands. More importantly, it has a vibrant microbrewery tradition. At Unimart (Greenhills Shopping Center, San Juan), you can get both. Go for Leffe Brune, but if you can’t find it, look for Leffe Blonde. Feel happier, however, if you come across the Trappiste beer Chimay Red, which sometimes pops up at the grocery.

The Leffe brand originated from the Abbey of Leffe brewery, which dates back to 1240, but the multinational giant InBev now owns it. Some consider the industrial lager Stella Artois (also owned by InBev) to be the representative Belgian beer, but any self-respecting Belgian would gag immediately upon hearing this. With its roasted, caramel flavors, fruity aromas and smooth finish, Leffe Brune is a good start. At 6.50%, this beer will deliver the basic complexities that you can’t find in Southeast Asian beers. On the other hand, if you see Chimay on the shelf, grab one and feel blessed. There are only six genuine Trappiste breweries left in the world, they are all from Belgium, and all of them are excellent, though Chimay, which the Cistercian Trappist monks have been brewing since 1862, is to me the least excellent among the Trappiste beers. I find Chimay Blue (alc. 9%) the most complex. Unfortunately, I think only Chimay Red is sold in the Philippines, Chimay beers are top-fermented, re-fermented in the bottle and are not pasteurized. At 7%, Chimay Red has a creamy head and delicate plum-like scent with the right amount of bitterness, which is what distinguishes it from the more common Leffe brands.

Go ‘German’ at Santi’s Deli. Every now and then, this celebrated deli carries the bottles of two brands. One is the fine Erdinger Weissbier, a 5.30% wheat beer that’s actually more Bavarian than German. The other is Paulaner Hefe-Weissbier (5.50%).

To be clear, “hefe” means yeast, and “weizen” means wheat. To be even more clear, both Erdinger Weissbier and Paulaner’s Hefe-Weissbiers are cloudy, and that’s what makes them great. Erdinger is a nice wheat beer that is predictably cloudy and with the right tartness. Erdinger Weissbier is not the best wheat beer by far but check it out. It will be a revealing experience. The same is true with Paulaner’s Hefe-Wiessbier, the dunkel (dark) version (5.30%) of which Santi’s sometimes imports.

Check out Czech beer at Grappa’s. And finally, try out the micro-brewed beer by Pivo Praha in Grappa’s. The branch I used to favor, particularly for its service, was the one in Morato, which has since closed down. But visit the branch in Greenbelt and order the weizen on draught for a taste of really fresh wheat beer. Also on draught is the dark version, which I find too cloying and thin, and the lager which is watery. #

BREW HO!
The Sociology of Beer (And Other Brew-hahas...)
BLUE, maiden issue
RENATO REDENTOR CONSTANTINO
Grab some gravitas next time you have a beer


Let's be clear about a few things.

1. Contrary to popular rumors, this country is not going to the dogs. It's going to world-class thieves who are stealing absolutely everything, including dog chow.

2. It's high time we go for groovy. Lolita Carbon for President, and Sugarfree and Radioactive Sago for the entire Philippine parliament!

3. Although the ballot you cast may not always get tabulated in this country, believe me simple things still count. Next time you hold another bottle or glass of beer, don't just drink it. Enjoy it and give yourself and your beer a little more respect. You hold far more power than you think you have, and the brew in your hand actually holds the memory of entire civilizations. It's completely true.

There's a perfectly legitimate theory held by scholars such as Dr. Delwen Samuels that beer may have come first before bread, which to a beer-fan kind of conveys almost transcendental wisdom. Anthropologists like Thomas W. Kavanagh have even wondered "whether the desire for a secure supply of beer might, in fact, have motivated people to intentionally cultivate grain crops and settle down." In fact, according to the late Michael Jackson (who was the first to wear the mantle "Beer Hunter"), "the world's first known recipe, on clay tablets, appears to be a method for making beer."

The cultivation of grain such as barley and wheat took place alongside the development of things such as art and language, all marks of nascent civilization and not long after, the domestication of similar beer-enabling crops spread out from the Mesopotamian region. In the hotter south, Jackson tells us, Africans began brewing beer from sorghum and millet while Asian peoples in the wetter east did the same with rice, "leading to the production of sake in China and Japan." (Yes, sake is more a variant of beer than 'rice wine', since it comes from a grain.)

Did you know that the earliest evidence of written language, which comes from the Uruk people, "was used primarily for counting and measuring important things, like beer"? The Code of Hammurrabi, for instance, named after the King of Babylonia, contains rules regarding beer and taverns, such as fixing fair rates for beer and requiring female brewers (yes, macho drinkers, the brewers were all female at the time) "to bring disorderly customers to the palace to be summarily punished."

Beer has long had roots in all things spiritual across entire regions.

The Egyptians adopted Isis, the quintessential Nubian earth-fertility goddess, and called her "the Mother of all Goddesses, the Lady of Green Crops and the Lady of Beer." According to Fermenting Revolution, the celebrated book written by brewer and beer scholar Christopher O'Brien, the mythology of Isis later merged with that of Hathor's, the goddess who greets the souls of the dead in the underworld and who is the subject of a hymn where she is called "the Mistress of Inebriety without End."

According to the Kalevala, "the ancient Finnish account of the creation of the world," three women brought about the birth of beer, the initial preparations of which fell flat until one of them "combined saliva from a bear's mouth with wild honey," which caused the beer to ferment and foam.

In the Norse paradise of Valhalla, the Viking god Woden "entertained the dead with war stories" over pitchers of ale that "streamed from the udders of a mythic goat named Heidrun."

Closer to the spiritual home of most Filipinos, did you know that St. Luke the Evangelist "is the first beer saint and one of the few to be formally recognized as such" by Catholic Church?

Apart from his duties watching over prostitutes and seafarers, jolly-man Saint Nicholas, a.k.a. Santa Claus, is also officially listed by the Catholic Church as a Patron Saint of Brewing. There is even a really rare beer named after Holy Nick - Samichlaus Bier - brewed originally in Switzerland. At 14 percent alcohol by volume (% AbV) - unusual for a lager - Santa's brew is made only every December 6, his feast day, and bottled the following October.

I've tasted a really luscious beer named He'Brew: The Chosen Beer (10% AbV) made by Schmaltz Brewing for the niche Jewish market in New York, which my wife brought home for me in 2006 from Brooklyn. The He'Brew bottle occupies a special place in the Kamuning Republic, which holds the entire beer bottle archive that will one day pass over to Rio (nine year-old boy) and Luna (five year-old girl), better known for now as the kids of Red and Kala.

The Kamuning Republic's beer collection is the alcoholic journal of my beer adventures. It started with seven bottles, most notably Bass Pale Ale, which I brought home after my grandfather and I (his treat) went to the unfortunately quick-lived Planet Beer bar in Makati to celebrate my graduation. The collection has grown since to an (almost) fully annotated 400-bottle collection (already much vetted due to perennial space problems).

The Kamuning Republic has all of the best beers that I have tasted, such as Rochefort 10 (AbV 11.3%), an incredibly complex beer brewed by Belgian trappiste monks and which tastes as if you were drinking liquid cake. There is the spice-heavy Hoegaarden Grand Cru (8.5% AbV), which has a distinct finish of nutmeg and cinnamon. There is Zatte (8% AbV) a signature drink of the great Amsterdam microbrewery Brouwerij 't IJ. (In the name of world peace, try this beer.)

The Kamuning collection is also made up of a lot of beer given (with contents intact...) by generous friends such as Kirsten Macey, who introduced me to Little Creatures (5.2% AbV) - a stand-out, very full-bodied pale ale from Freemantle, Australia. The amber-bottled Banks (4.7% AbV) from Barbados, West Indies, on the other hand, is part of the pasalubong from award-winning reporter Maki Pulido after she did a show on the Filipino crew of a luxury liner plying the Caribbean.

Kala gave me a couple of beers last year after she attended an assembly of reproductive health advocates in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - a country with a beer culture that is unsurpassed even by Europe, and where, with exception of devout Muslims, "virtually every woman brews beer."

"Beer is part of everyday Ethiopian life," O'Brien tells us. There, beer drinking "doesn't go on behind closed doors, exclusively by men... Kids get the occasional sip. Grandma and Grandpa get a healthy jug full. Women drink as well as men."

O'Brien makes a singular contribution to drink, scholarship and radicalism in his book when he reminds readers about the distinctly women-based origins of beer-making. His approach is radical and grounded and gives great resonance to his call "to bring back the ale in female." O'Brien surveyed a wide range of beer literature that includes, for instance, the work of Judith Bennett covering the transition of brewing from women to men in England in the period 1300-1600. "Biology has nothing to do with women leaving brewing," Bennett asserts. Instead, based on evidence she has gathered, "cultural ideas about women gradually gave brewsters a sleazy reputation."
Bennett leverages "a large literature in late medieval and early modern England that depicts brewsters as filthy, disgusting workers, as women who produce polluted ale and cheat their customers." Interestingly, said Bennett, "There's no literature like that about male brewers." Her point should be familiar to some Philippine drinkers - there remains a very strong notion, for example, that Filipinas who drink as much and as frequently as men today are looked down on or considered 'easy' or of loose morals. But there's no such thing when it comes to male boozers.

There's more to beer than just suds. At least there should be.

Each year, around 350 billion 12-ounce servings of commercial beer are brewed globally. Unfortunately, more than one in five are produced in the US. The corporate colossus, Anheuser-Busch (AB), America's largest, produces one out of two beers sold in the US, and its most popular brand is called Budweiser. (It's a tragedy, actually. Some of the greatest beers of the world are produced by US microbreweries who truly, passionately love beer making).

You would know, if you're the type who goes through business periodicals or the business section of regular dailies, that there's been a brewing global corporate melee courtesy of the bid of European brewing giant InBev to acquire AB. InBev owns today some of the world's biggest brands such as Stella Artois and Beck's.

If InBev gets its way, it will become the world's largest beer maker. Among brewers and drinkers who take beer quality seriously, though, such an event is likely irrelevant, taste-wise. Both companies represent not just the continued take-over of smaller, local breweries but also the process that O'Brien calls the blandardization of beer. And he's right, of course. But of industrial, crappy beer - as bad and as farcical as the current Philippine government - we will need another article altogether.

Cheers! #

NOTES:
1. Roger Protz, The Taste of Beers: A Guide to Appreciating the Great Beers of the World (Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1998)
2. Christopher Mark O'Brien, Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World (New Society Publishers 2006)
3. Christopher Mark O'Brien, Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World (New Society Publishers 2006)

THREE FOR THE POUR

Ale Mary full of Taste
An April plunge

Let's hear it for stand-up beers. The beers that count - the ones that remain on your mind long after the last great trickle of scent and taste in one enduring gush guzzle.

First up, one of the very best I've tasted in a long while, courtesy of Beerhunter Daniel Mittler (whose latest new and old finds are on display on the top photo of a tiny part of the beautiful Berlin home he shares with Kathrin and Noni.) Stortebeker Bernstein-Wiezen. This is a beer that surprised me, since it's quite hard to be in the German weizen class and be above this really wide but well-maintained quality strata. There are a lot of bad ones of course, but in general there's a wide range of really good weizen beers. But this one had a distinct personality, a unique flavor kick, which was that the banana scent and finish was so exquisite and elegant that it just stood out of the many wheat beers I've had. That's no mean feat, considering that most good weizen beers usually have a taste that carries the herbaceous plants of the genus Musa, while the bad ones end up with a silly plantain flavor. This one -- you knew you were having beer but the fragrance, the carbonation and the finish -- it all added up to an organic class act, with the 5.3% abv making for a fine bio beer that really deserves a standing ovation. I really wonder why no one from BeerAdvocate has reviewed this very good beer.

I had it in Berlin with Daniel, seen here with that other sunshine of his life, baby Noni. Daniel-san has sampled many bio beers and weizen brews, and he agreed with me completely that this was a really nice one.

If you've had good wheat beers you'd know what a "banana finish" means. Think Hoegaarden Wit beers, and think ordinary. Stortebeker's product is as good as that very name - a German privateer who led the Victual Brothers' piracy enterprise in the 1390s and who, after his capture, legend has it, asked his executioners to grant mercy to all the comrade pirates that he'll manage to walk past right his head was lopped off. Stories said he did traipse past his brothers but they were all executed anyway. There's even a statue to honor his memory in Hamburg. We of course can remember him through this beer. (Without losing our heads.)

Mind you, the word "pirate" means many things, especially during its ancient heyday -- a buccaneer's almost the same as a privateer, but they're not exactly pirates or at least not the same as Blackbeard or the ocean brigand Anne Bonny, who were pirates for a different purpose and who were not sailing and pillaging under the flag of private or state interest. But that's another chapter in a book I'm writing and there's another time for that.

Next up, Mort Subite's Original Geueze, a 4.5% Belgian lambic that's a classic thirst quencher and soul-satisfyingly good. I had this very good beer with Mae and Maia, in Sloterkade, Amsterdam one night and though it wasn't as the label said it was -- mort subite, or sudden death -- it was certainly a very memorable brew.

We sampled four different Lambic beers that night and Mort Subite's was the first one, and it really sort of gave the rest of the bottles a very difficult time. It had good body, which was surprising too given the familiar lightness of many lambics, and as a geueze beer it was complex enough with just the right tartness and bubble. It was a bit different from most gueuze styles as it tended to be on the sweetish side and the tartness was not authoritative. But it surprised me in a good way and its yeastiness was very subtle and it was like, having had it just before dinner, I immediately thought "I should have had this for lunch a while ago."

A few GP diaspora friends of mine from Facebook immediately wrote in to agree with my initial thoughts - Jim Thomas for instance wrote in to say he had it all the time once upon a time, and Tonya Hennessey exclaimed "Yummy" while the wizard John Carella reminded me to drop by De Wildeman (which I did again; this bar deserves a separate post later, perhaps with the help of Padma?). This is a nice gueuze, very reliable in the mouthfeel it gave, and it reminded me why lambic beers, especially the gueuze style, should be on the minds of all campaigners worth their salt, because it's based on the premise of spontaneous fermentation and wild yeast and bacteria endemic to the region where it's brewed.

Last but not the least, we have what I'd consider the great Mary from Brouwerij de Prael (The Pearl, in English). Mary packed a 9.6% abv and it had a stand-out flavor that has come to be a hallmark of good Dutch beers. I had it with Ginting and Harris and I believe it dislodged the already really good Zatte of Brouwerij 't Ij from my all time list of fave Dutch brews. It had more bitterness, had more body, and it had a finish that I didn't think could top the Zatte but which clearly surpassed it after I had my first drink. It was a bitter-sweet, almost red triple that was named after Mary Servaes, who the brewery says is also "full, soft and outspoken." That's just what Mary was to me, and Ginting agrees with that it's really a very good beer, and we both preferred it over De Prael's Johnny and Andre and Heintje, which both deserve a post another time.

The brewery's located in one of the oldest parts of Amsterdam the Oudezijds Voorburwal. De Prael says "as long ago as 1300, [the] canal had a beer quay where wooden ships unloaded beer from the south of Germany." It was here that "the first breweries were later established." De Prael named their beers after Dutch singers of popular 'life songs' and the brewery "offers people with a history of mental illness work of a clear and honest nature."

When do we apply eh?

De Prael's labels -- beautiful.

Thanks for dropping by... #

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MORE BEER?

ESSAYS FOR THE INEBRIATED?

CANADA BEERHOPS
Redster's Ottawa lurch

I enjoyed the company of Kretz and Tea in Washington and not Ottawa. But I want to start things by showing the pics, to remind myself of forgetful stupidities.

Saw them both in early October last year. Beer was on the agenda obviously. But. But. But.

Forgot to bring home the gorgeous red bottle of Rogue that Kretz is holding... If you want to know whether it tastes good or not, don't ask me. The evidence is written all over Senyor Kretzmann's face.)

I also forgot to bring home the Jinx beer bottle Tea's holding (&#&#$*!), which was another really fine beer that I have to review another time.

Long before the Obamarama blingfest, a real revolution has been actually blazing paths in North America -- the fermenting revolution.

The bottles held by Kretz and Tea are testimonies to the new world that the US is offering to all who drink beer, which you may consider as the global (and far from silent) majority.

Same's true in Canada of course, though you have to be ready to drop previous biases, or misimpressions. Just like Heineken is not (by far) the representative Dutch beer, so should you not conclude that Labatt or Molson Canadian or Moosehead define what Canadian beer really is.

A literally small example is Stuart's Natural Session Ale, a really good light beer produced by the craft brewery Scotch Irish Brewing based in Ontario and named after Stuart -- a Scottie that "lives, plays and digs in Ottawa".

I found the 3.7% AbV Stuart's session ale to be particularly refreshing, especially after a long day walking along one of the main streets of Ottawa in chilly late September. It's brewed in the English ordinary bitter style and it comes in a small, 341 ml. amber bottle that's probably almost big as the Nokia N95 mobile phone when slid open. If you've seen the small green Victoria Bitter bottle from Australia, or the bottle of Red Stripe lager from Jamaica, that's almost what Stuart's looks like.

I like beers that come in small, exquisite bottles. Easy to pack in the bag (just chuck it in!) and you already have a whole day worth of complete nutrition, with a taste that can make the clouds go away. It's great with chips and has a smooth, fragrant finish. It's "the first and only organic beer brewed in Eastern Ontario" using certified organic malts and hops; no preservatives or additives.

Ottawa's beer scene is quite interesting, even though I found the bar scene not as active as I thought.

In many of the Ottawa bars I visited, draught beer came out of really geeky spouts, as you can see from the pic.

The draught beer on offer in the places I visited though were not particularly exciting, though I did like the cloudy pint of Rickard's and the usual meal-in-a-glass Guinness stout on offer obviously from a bar that calls itself The Aulde Dubliner...


Fascinating to me was the place mysteriously called The Beer Store, which served beer...

It looked like a firm that enjoyed great business, as I saw, while walking along one of the proclaimed bar strips of Ottawa, a humongous truck worthy of a well-planned, professional highway robbery hit...

I've only been to Canada twice. Once in Vancouver over a decade ago, and last year in Ottawa. I'm most certain there's a lot more beer adventures waiting for me in that vast land. #

AMIGOS DE CERVEZA
Friendly Files with the Beer Files

Paths change and we all get to take a few detours down the road. Sometimes the surprises are fascinating, but it not always scenic.

I am thankful for liquid grain fermented with memories of good times past. Here's a toast to people who remained faithful to the mug, the glass, the bottle and the perpetual next round. When the day was long or when the night plodded on this year, I thought of them.

What are you doing right now SP? Still holding that skewer? I remember - winter in Beijing, cold nights, hot coal, embers, smoke, stupid jokes, jokes that should get anyone thrown out of any room except that they're just so completely stupid you have to laugh at the ideas; so stupid we can't remember any, and I remember staggering back many times to your place, or to another small dingy joint, for a final round. Ripe, cold sliced tomatoes or cucumber with salt and sugar and frash garlic? The Yi Li milk in the morning that probably has us doused in tremendous amounts of melanine? Morning music that makes a sunny day cloudy and the air so still. Cobwebs and melancholy, and memories of snoring like the droning sound made by busted pipes of busted old socialist plumbing of yesteryear. Peppercorn -- a bazillion peppercorns with a piece of oil-soaked fish in the mouth, and a piece of rabbit beneath a mountain of chillis. Yanjing beer as fireman.

In my mind are old photos I've never seen. Feifei is driving big red trucks, sitting on the pastoral dreams of Kaming, floating on his dad's silly jokes. There is the terrace of your high home in Beijing, open air, where you are holding up the young tiger and you are both gazing down at the hutongs, past and future opening up and you see farther than your eyes can reach.

What about you Arthur Jones? Still carrying that Beer Chang mug? We slurred our speeches once upon a time too many times and it's still not enough, the last time being at that fine place, that old place by the park named like Looney Tunes where the locals get their happy greens with their beer suds. I remember what you said then. You said Na told you. Get everything out, chop chop chop, pound pound pound, ready the salt, ready the pepper, put those fermented fish things by your side, make sure there's a pinch 'o sugar to sprinkle; no need for any meat. When the oil's piping hot and the smoke's billowing out like it was a happy, sweating chimney, throw everything in and stir like crazy. Half a minute later take it all out and serve in a clean plate and make the world a happier place. Remember AC-DC live? And that white girl who took to the stage, grabbed the mike and sang a Whitesnake song? She sounded like a virus alarm on the PC but she was happy, and so were we with the rounds of Singha.

What are you doing right now Daniel? We've done two already and it's a great start; I hope there's more.

Last time I saw you you left me three special brews. I think the things people do with hops represent countries far better than what any of those silly farts sitting in parliament do. There's more to life than fizz. Don't you think the world would be a happier place if trade returned to its barter stage? For the Alligauers I would have paid you four sand dollars and you would have been rich beyond your means.For your mountain coffee - organic, as you prefer - I would have asked for ten bottle caps and a box of crayons.

What's your idea of precious?

Raise your fist again and open the door, enter; that's what you do. And the calling just don't get more militant than the Proletaryat, right after consuming hot Polish honey beer at the big dark square and walking on cobblestones. The story should be worth telling even after a decade: "It was winter when we manned the barricades, under the cross-eyed gaze of Karl and Vladimir Illich and a bemedalled general we couldn't identify, except that he looked Soviet and looked like a bureaucrat, which sounds redundant." We sat on nifty chairs with a red star where the buns meet and we sipped our Zywiec and there were plenty of young folks smoking and drinking and smoking and drinking, and you were trying your best to keep swallowing more pilsen and to show that you did not mind the fumes. But people do tend to notice other people when they stop breathing.

I remember the bartender lady looked kinda evil and it felt weird because she had this horrible lion toy thingy beside a dark fuschia piggy bank just in front of the taps, as if they were totems placed there to ward away do-gooders, and I think if she suddenly popped her mouth open to show she was sucking on the corpse of Tweety Bird I wouldn't have been surprised. I'm not sure you noticed.

The world's changed a lot and it's remained pretty much the same. I see you right now riding a train, and it's a long tranquil ride. I see you leaning on the far side, an elbow propped on the foldable table and I can hear the noise of the rails, a rhythmic mechanical chant, and suddenly the whoosh of another train going in the opposite direction, and you're looking out the window and the carriage rocks from side to side, as if caught in linear ripples.

Fields pass by like plates getting rapidly rinsed in a sink. There are two dozen plates; one, two, three, four, five. Light poles are flying, then streets, cars, houses, trees, then it's another station, then tenements, the coast, blue sky, more fields and more plates, another train station, buildings, highways, children boiling out of schools and rushing to meet playtime. Parks, farms, windmills, stadiums, convention centers, and then the train slows down and carriage mouths open to disengorge passengers who step down gingerly. Train conductors peek out, a whistle is blown; conversations splinter. One day soon it won't be just a book or your laptop resting on your lap. There will be a kid and there will be four eyes staring out, quietly watching the big blue sky, thinking of Kathrin and escalators.

Martin Baker Boulangerie. Towering figure who always looks up. Hard-nosed cupcake. Lava-man with the perpetual heart of a teen-ager. (Which is why she likes you.) What have you been up to? Right now I am replaying in my mind a Hong Kong stroll we made when we decided not to stop by Boris the Ukrainian's dreadful dive. We made a pit stop in a place with fluid jazz, where I ordered an Irish meat stew, which was every bit Irish except that the dish wasn't drunk and so you and I had to compensate and we walked out and hunted for another place - a cold roof top where a bald boy got married and while it rained we had rounds of wheat beer till the waiters called for last orders. I remember the hiccups, which felt like a small squirrel was stuck inside the diaphragm and it kept bouncing and bouncing and bouncing. I saw you again in a blues place where I finally met the woman who made you swoon. So never mind the Lionel Barts. You went to rock and lurch because it's past the time to hawk one's pearly, which you know, because you'll always be a flag unfurled, with your fleas and ants on all the time, and pretty soon it's time to soap and lather.

Here's to Ginting, a Westmalle among ten thousand Heinekens. The old year is drawing to a close and we are all going to be sustained by the things that connect. Nasi goreng past midnight in cold, cold Amsterdam after the long boisterous dinner at Marta's. Just like Filipinos, with early morning lugaw or arroz caldo after a good binge. We did Vondel Park one day, with Trappist beers in tow and we met this Dutchman playing with a Swiss version of a gamelan piece. He had a weird name -- Trevor Namaste -- as if he was eager for a new start, one of those who had met modernity and discovered there was nothing inside. The music of his gong though was beautiful, but the spot we had taken was better and we watched a whole swarm of people enjoy the sun on the open field and Tri took pictures and gave out kreteks. We'll do that book soon. Think good thoughts. I do. Let's have more blueberry.

Mae and Maia. Maia and Mae. Maiabird and Melindamae. Amsterdam opened its secrets to me when we criss-crossed the channels and cycled with no destination in mind and I realized things were not so secret. There was always time to watch people and to taste new things, always time to laugh at something. I'd get lost all the time and I'd get rescued all the time, because I always had time at Erste or at the living room terrace at the third floor.

Old Church and the flesh trade, Albertheijn and Waterloo Plein, herring sliding down the throat, vegetables, fruits and another slippery herring. A steak place called Che run by young Yugoslavians, grapes from the vine, Kurdish fare, Cafe Weiteringstraat. The margins coming to centerstage. We watched a legion descend on Brouwerij 't Ij to sun themselves on the street, besdie the canal and beneath the great old windmill. It was Zatte, Natte, and Columbus -- and the special Cosa Nostra Ducks, those murderous mallards who escaped from the National Geographic Asylum for animals with sick minds who tried to slap, bite, peck, stomp and drown a poor quack for being a stool pigeon. Never saw a duck try to drown another duck before; ducks biting the neck of another to plunge its head underwater. We threw small rocks, big rocks, twigs, branches, a brick but the violence would not stop. Then the victim wriggled frree and floated, gasped for air, paddled briefly then flew away, and there we were till the brewery's closing wondering what the heck we saw. Was Padma there?

Wonderdays. Soul food that keeps giving. #

COMPLETING DANIEL's TREK
The Beer Files; for Daniel

It's a shame Daniel and I did not have another day, or even a few more hours. We would have been able to complete a good trek in search of natural beer that Madrid had to offer.

I'm not sure that we would have found the brew Daniel's been looking for -- San Miguel Eco, which I featured some time ago in a quick piece on memory beers -- I'm certain we would have found time for Magister beer, which is, like Naturbier, within Plaza Sta. Ana, though few meters outside the main square along Calle Principe.

It has a sign that announces the place loudly from the street. Cerveceria Magister, home of natural craft beer, or in Spanish, Magsiter, Naturas Cervezas Fabricas.

Aside from organic beer, another come-on pulls in customers and maintains regulars, I think: tapas gratis, or free tapas.

The tapas served with your natural beer does not look nor taste free. In fact, it's quality tapas, put together particularly for the beer being served. I had morcilla (blood pudding with rice sausage) on bread, a slender chorizo, a jamon iberico each with a fried quail's egg on top on a slice of toast. I think Daniel would have loved the variety, which included lots of cheeses and eggs (can't remember if Daniel eats huevos...)

I ordered the rubia first, a 5.5% unfiltered Pils, which I found very refreshing though it was quite basic compared to the blonde brew of Naturbier. But I have to say that I would still drink it anytime, on a hot or cool day, especially with Magister's famed (well-deserved!) tapas. They go together, and unless you've been there and have had both, it's hard to explain...

I passed up on another tostada, which was a bit thin and too sweet, though I was told a few shades less sweet than the caramelizada (which I did not order anymore). Others before me gave Magister's tostada brew more negative reviews.But I did get the brew called autor, which is the brewery's seasonal beer - a specialty beer. An 8.2% unfiltered double bock, this one had a strong finish, was dark toned with a thin head. I was a bit frustrated by the minimal fragrance that I usually associate with bocks, unfortunately. Maybe it's because I was having it too late in the year, in May? I'm not really sure. I would definitely recommend the place to any beer enthusiast -- the bar's first rate and the servings are generous, though the young bartenders were quite annoying in their swaggering, unlike the older guy who appeared to be supervising services.

What a difference a few hours would have been.

I wonder what Daniel would have thought if he realized that we had literally passed by a statue erected in honor of the tribune of duende, the great Spanish heart and poet named Federico Garcia Lorca.

In 2004, myself, Kala, pops, mom, Tiny and Yami made a pilgrimage to Lorca's house in Granada, where everything, from his bedroom to his piano to the Lorca family's living room was arranged the way it would have appeared before Lorca was murdered by Franco's Falangists. If you ever get to read only one of his poems in your lifetime, what a loss that would be, but still look for Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias. It gives only a tiny sliver of Lorca's poetic range, but you can have a small serving of his power. Another great poet, Edward Hirsch, actually crafted a huge, huge part of his book The Demon and the Angel: Searching for the Source of Artistic Inspiration based on Lorca's work.

The monument was life-size and bore Lorca's likeness, including the expression of Lorca's bronze entirety -- caught in the middle of a step, gently casting free a dove. He had a gaze that was fixed afar, as if he was in mid-contemplation. It did not help that there was a weekend fair in Plaza Sta. Ana, which meant Lorca's memorial was surrounded by stalls. But there he was, as Kala patiently reminded me.

I took so many pictures and was enthralled till sundown by the work, rendered by the hands of the sculptor Julio I. Hernandez in 1985-86.

If Daniel had a few more hours, further down Calle Principe we would have ran into the corner of Calle De Leon and Calle Cervantes. There is an orthopedic shoe shop at the corner selling beautiful espadrilles. Beside it is the house occupied by the novelist Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra from 1606 until his death in 1616.

If the name Cervantes does not ring a bell, I suggest you try running into a wall to get a buzzing gong-like sound going in your head, after which you can try reciting the following words slowly - "Don Quixote, great, great, great novel. All hail Rocinante and Sancho Panza, I promise to buy Red three pints of beer."

Thanks to Kala, again, who pointed out the Cevantes place quite early.

There is a plaque there in honor of the novelist, and words are inscribed in bright gold letters on the road remembering the great author. I caught a few pictures of tourists, looking at the inscription on the road and up at the apartment windows - like me, they were also actually hunting down the last abode of the writer. Despite two false starts (Spaniards I talked to kept telling me the house was in Valladolid, and I am sure I did not make my questions clear), Kala insisted that the house was there, and it was.

When I finally reached the corner, I sat down on a granite bench and I saw a dirty street, unfortunately unkempt and littered with household debris. But what did it matter?

Cervantes was there once upon a time. Myself too. #

NATURAL CERVEZA WITH DANIEL
The Beer Files

I was with fellow beernut Daniel Mittler the other week, hunting the square of Plaza Sta. Ana in Madrid for organic brew. Senyor Daniel had just delivered a talk an hour before which, I was told, was a fine exposition of strategic campaign principles. It was my misfortune that I was able only to catch the open discussion session. But I did not feel too bad since Daniel had quality goofing time right after, and the man after all remains animated till he's actually asleep. I think.

I gave my good friend a shirt to wear at the green firm, which he was delighted to receive. In turn, Daniel made my eyes pop out when he gave me Chris O' Brien's great book Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World. I was fascinated when I first saw this title, and I passed on to Daniel a review of O' Brien's work. I think he hunted it down right away, and at Barajas, he handed me one of two copies he bought, one for himself, and one for me. I gave Herr Mittler a great big beer hug...

Continuing our never-ending swap of stories, rants and general happinesses, and on the advice of the bar gentleman, the fine Spaniard named Jose Luis Garcia, Daniel and I headed to the Tirso de Molina metro station to find a couple of bars that served organic beer.

I was eager to enter the first one we encountered, actually but Daniel, ever the patient one, counselled otherwise. And thus, after a few minutes of puttering around the nice looking plaza with lots of people-watching opportunities, we entered the fine bar called Naturbier where we had dinner and a few rounds of the bar's own excellent craft beer.

Being a tolerant vegetarian, Daniel ordered Patatas Bravas for himself (a large dish; the vege-man has a big appetite) and I asked for chistorras with chili and leaves. We both got a big mug each of the basic fare - blonde beer, which was delightfully cloudy, very smooth, and with lots of fruity flavor tones and fragance. After that, we ordered the tostada style, which was stronger and equally flavorful but not as complex as the previous one. We enjoyed the beers and had great fun doing the silly toast to the lovely surroundings.

It's hard to miss Naturbier once you reach Plaza Sta. Ana, since it has a very big sign and is placed right on the edge of the square, which is along Calle Del Prado, in between Calle Nunez de Arce and Calle Principe. During mellow sunny days, tables are laid outside Naturbier, which also has a vast, beautiful brightly lit interior. Large paintings adorn its walls, which is mostly the color of brick. Entering the place, we were met by high round tables and equally high chairs and plenty of customers occupying both outside tables and the tables by the entrance. So, no problem, Daniel and I dove in and eventually found a table big enough for eight, which he and I occupied easily with our stories.

It was a fabulous and funny occasion, since both of us had phones with cameras and we fiddled around with the devices snapping pictures like kids (which we are, happily). In fact, I think if Daniel and I had a slingshot each, we would have stayed in Spain for a while to accomplish great things...

I was last with Daniel in December and May last year, where we were posted as two among a handful of sentries, if you will, assigned the impossible task of keeping at bay marauding profiteers intent on screwing up planetary interests.

We had only a few hours of catch up, and we squeezed in as much as we can, but it was all worth it. We emerged from the bar quite happy and wanting to hop on to the first place we came across, but unfortunately it was already closed and it was only 15 to 0100. Daniel and I settled for a corner bar, where we continued our conversation and contented ourselves with the familiar industrial lager San Miguel and boquerones en vinagre (anchovies in vinegar).

We finished our mugs and tidied up and bade each other goodbye, resolving to continue our stories elsewhere, in another place, perhaps - with luck - even during a long-fermenting marriage of bubblies. Because love and suds make the world go round. Really. Believe me. #

IN PRAISE OF GREAT BEER-2
This is for Ben the Pirate

I’ve been swamped. My apologies for taking so long in posting the next piece. Each time I think I’m coming up for air, someone or something comes along and throws a boulder my way.

But the year’s almost done and the last lurch is behind me. Things should settle down now. This year’s been insane – things finishing unceremoniously when they’re just about to start; always snowed under, always catching up. But that’s life, and thank goodness life has a good supply of beer.

Previously, we talked about the joys of a great beer. Fortunately, storied brews are not just about preferred brewing styles, water quality, temperatures, barley, wheat or hops.

To many - even to those who may not be aware of it - beer is about memory. A cold one in hand or a mouthful rushing down the throat can bring to mind good times, ecstatic moments, periods of despair, as well as the odd fragrance of some forgotten tradition that returns with the stray toast to no one in particular and which dissipates with the sigh of a glass or bottle drained.

Apart from youthful experiments with spontaneous combustion, my memories of family gatherings as a very young adult are spiked with San Miguel’s Pale Pilsen, in its amber rotund bottle.

To a lesser extent, I also have fond memories of San Miguel’s Cerveza Negra, endorsed once upon a time as the preferred drink of pregnant women, believe it or not… The old formula was smoky with the right amount of chocolate bitterness and carbonation, and of course, as with all good things, San Miguel changed its packaging and flavor.

The new Cerveza Negra came out in a slim bottle, perhaps to appeal to the young crowd, and the taste became way too sweeter and with less mouthfeel. It’s good for desert now and not much else.

San Miguel Philippines also killed the best tasting beer it ever produced – San Miguel Premium, which had a great heady scent and was in my mind very full bodied and possessing an excellent head and finish. A complete beer, so to speak, and a dead one.

San Miguel beer has a lot more history than most people imagine, actually. The brew’s now all over the main Asian markets; it’s expansion is in itself a story about marketing drive and strategic sense. There is also its association with sports, the Marcos dictatorship and the oligarchs that ruled the Philippines during and before the tyrant, along with its ties to Spain. (I wonder if my good buddy Daniel Mittler has ever come across San Miguel Eco? Surely he’d find it the perfect drink for writing late night climate essays?)

But I digress.

Filipinos are understandably very fond of San Miguel Pale and usually they’d order or ask for it “ice cold” with little idea that this is actually the preferred preparation for what some would describe as inferior beers (extreme low temperature serves as a diversion that masks the flavor deficit.)

There is some truth to this, actually. For instance, I would not order a Hoegaarden Grand Cru super-chilled, and neither would I dare to put ice and dilute a Pelforth Brune. If I find stocks of San Miguel, Leffe Blonde and Erdinger Weissbier together in a supermarket in whatever country, I would surely choose either of the latter two or both or, if I were getting beer for a bigger drinking group, I’d get San Miguel but still sneak in a bottle of Leffe for later. (In the pic is my wife Kala, my youngest sis Yami, then after her UP Fine arts prof Tiny, and good 'ol cousin Mike at, where else, Tito Ardz - the great beer place for late night drinks and home-love pulutan)

Yet the truth is, people have different flavor meters, and in the case of many Southeast Asian beers, flavor meters can be quite irrelevant or more complex than normal, especially when it comes to memory beers such as San Miguel Pale.

Beer critic Bob Klein, for instance, gives San Miguel Pale a rating of 2.9 (upper average) out of a total of 5, calling it “fizzy with no stimulating aroma” which “becomes pleasantly even-tempered with food; moves along.” It’s a fair description one would think especially from someone who avows that he doesn’t “chug barrels of Coors in front of the TV [Ben the Pirate would probably remark, ‘Now what the heck is wrong with that?’] or cases of Bud at family picnics” and that his lofty goal is “to judiciously locate, sip and rate at least one beer from every nook and cranny of the globe.” Well, that is so until you comes across Klein’s rating of the Belgian brew Orval Trappiste Ale: an incredible 2.1, which is almost below average.

I mean, San Miguel Pale, 2.9 vs. Orval, 2.1? Like, what the. As in, what the. What the.

And yet this actually brings us straight to the point of great beers. Here’s the strangest thing -- nowadays, in Manila, I’d probably prefer a San Mig Light, which is actually a more watery version of Pale Pilsen.

I’ve grown fonder of SanMig Light ever since it was first introduced and I prefer drinking it straight from the bottle, usually in four takes, frequently in three, sometimes in two and every now and then in just one lifting. I suspect this is because San Mig Light has become my soda of choice – Kool-Aid minus the cloying sweetness and ten times the merriment -- with a slice of lime or lemon thrown in, particularly when I’m at the fantabulous watering hole called the Oarhouse.

And what do others say? The Long Beach Bum has this to spout over San Mig Light, which I hilariously tend to agree with: “this is a miss, but certainly no worse than other Lights out there… Archetypal straw body with a watery body...Thin white head runs around and tries to look good but sadly all too soon fades and drops to a thin broken covering, but it leaves some lacing, almost as if to make up for the poor looking head.” And regarding taste, “this one comes and goes faster than a nervous teenager with a premature ejaculation. High speed middling bitterness blends with a soft metallic trait and some pale malts.Finishes…. uaauurrghhhh…..oh my, all too quickly!!”


I don't think San Mig Light will ever qualify as a great beer, though I'd really really vote for it as one of the greatest sodas of all time (and yes, the assessment of Pale Pilsen as a great beer I finished sometime ago; as a memory beer, the answer could not have been anything other than a yes.)

But for the ghosts of Oar, where a good belch is one's personal brochure, the derelicts with dissonance written all over their foreheads have told me time and again that San Mig Light may be arguably on its way to becoming a brew of memory but it shouldn't really matter so long as you can get the bum across the bar to buy you another one.

If both were served on a single tray I’d probably still choose Kyoto Craft Hamanachi Beer over San Mig Light. Or maybe not. It depends on the place and the company. There are too many unfinished stories when it comes to memory beers, and taken during the right time, with the sun still high in the sky, each bottle can mean history being undone or remade or something simply as grand as the next great lewd joke at the bar. #


For a good provocative read, see Bob Klein’s The Beer Lover’s Rating Guide (Workman Publishing, New York: 1995)

IN PRAISE OF GREAT BEER-1
Westmalle Trappist Beer
For Jean-Francois and the late Michael Jackson

Finally I can write about the great Belgian beer brewing craft. Belgium is not just home to thousands of different kinds of beer. It is also the place of many, if not most, of the world's greatest beers.

I've been away for so long that I've neglected to update the beer blog. Thankfully I'm always on the lookout for exceptional beer moments and so despite the gap between posts, I've managed to collect images and stories, which I store in an ever-growing brew folder.

The hunt for the world's most interesting beers is never-ending, and by great we mean not just vital aspects of a beer, such as flavor, but also facets like the setting for the drink, the food that went with the brew, the company of friends that came with the beer, or even just the label or shape of the bottle.

This time though, I'd like to write about a single great brew -- a Belgian brew, one of the best that Belgium has ever produced. I wish to write it too in honor of the late Michael Jackson, described by the fine (if not finest?) beer website, BeerAdvocate.com, as "the most influential beer writer on Earth". Cheers to that, I say -- Jackson is indeed the best writer on beer that the world has ever produced.

Jackson passed away last August 30 and with his demise, a large store of lore and experience has come to a close. Fortunately, because he had always been a generous champion of beer, Jackson left behind a stupendous amount of books and insights. He wrote to share the joys of beer, and for this, I, along with countless fans and advocates of beer brewing and drinking, am indebted to him.

This short post is also dedicated to my good friend JF Fauconnier, who hails from the beautiful Belgian city of Liege. He's working with Amnesty International right now, and I haven't had a conversation with him for some time. I miss his company. JF introduced me to that rare Trappist beer called Westvleteren, an enormously exhilarating brew which should have a separate post soon. For this one, though, I'd like to introduce you to another trappiste beer called Westmalle, particularly its Dubbel brew, produced by a monastery established in 1821. There are only five beers that can be rightfully called trappiste beers and the Westmalle brew is one of them. I wish to borrow from one of Michael Jackson's works.

I've mostly had this beer with mature cheese and real Belgian fries (double-fried and way more pleasurable due to its inside and outside texture, unlike the French version) and I've had a few bottles on different occasions in Brussels. The Westmalle Trappist bottle is one of my favorites on account of the distinct ring around its neck, which gives the dark amber bottle an elegant quality. Westmalle Trappist Beers, like many of the world's great beers, has its own beautiful glass. I shall write about beer glasses another time but you can see one from one of the images in this post.

According to Jackson, the "classic example of the pale, Triple style of Belgian Trappist brew is produced by the monastery of Westmalle, a village northeast of Antwerp." Westmalle "remains one of the most withdrawn of the Trappist monasteries" and "was slow in making its beer available commercially." Visits to the brewery are not encouraged "though appointments can be made."

"The brewery produces three beers. The 'Single', confusingly known as Extra, is available only to the brothers", which frustrated Jackson because the "pale, top-fermenting brew is a product of some delicacy." The Double is "dark brown, malty, but quite dry." The Triple "offers an unusual combination of features, being a strong top-fermenting beer of pale, almost Pilsener, colour. Its mash is entirely of Pilsener malts from Germany and France but, in the classic procedure, candy sugar is added in the kettle. There are three hopping stages, using Styrian Goldings, a number of German varieties and Saaz.... With its faintly citric fruitiness (and hints of thyme and rosemary), its rounded body and its alcoholic 'kick', the Triple expresses very full character within six months of leaving the monastery, though bottles from 1927 are still in good condition."

A final note, in case you get to sample Westmalle Trappist beer -- the brewery "Is extremely jealous of the individuality of its product, but several secular breweries produce beers in a similar style, using the designation Triple. " Some of the better examples cited by Jackson include Vieille Villers Triple (haven't tried this) from Van Assche; Witkap from Slaghmuylder (tried this and the Kamuning Republic has a bottle in its collection! Will write about it in another post), and the "slightly deeper-coloured" Affligem (tried this too! another very good one surely deserving a separate post).

That's all for now friends. With his death, I think all the readers of Jackson -- and all those who have come to search for the elusive essence of beer -- can today call themselves by the title that he has come to be identified with, in remembrance of the original, the great Beer Hunter! #

The Westmalle Trappist beer bottle pic is from the Kamuning Republic's beer collection. This bottle's a Double. The collection also has two or three Triples on the shelf. The Triple version has a much paler label. The other images are links to actual beer websites. Click on them and find out more! The photo of Michael Jackson is from BeerAdvocate. Jackson's words are borrowed from his book Michael Jackson's Pocket Beer Book (Reed Internatioanl Books Limited, London: 1997)

ORGANIC HONEY BEER and WIZARDRY

Unknown to Harry Potter's fans, when the popular wizard's not shooing off Voldemort's Death Eaters, Herr Potter assumes the role of shriek-laughing activist with wide-ranging mortal interests, including natural beer. He collects bottles like the Kamuning Republic, but only organic ones. In his latest post, the bespectacled one recounts the origins of his love for beer and, even better, gives a sample of a few organic brews he's tasted of late. One's labelled Fishtale and other is Paddywhack -- both are Canadian brews. We hope he'll come up with more similar posts, and maybe next time he'll show the whole bottle (it's not just the label that's nice; bottle stems are important too).

Meantime, in ale-driven solidarity, I have posted below a review of an organic beer I met a few years ago. So drink up but, as a blimp ad in The Simpsons movie advises, "binge responsibly" folks.


FULLER'S ORGANIC HONEY DEW ORIGINAL
Griffin Brewery (est. 1845) in Chiswick, London, an independent family brewery.
500 ml. Purchased in 2004 Islington, London, consumed with Kala a few days later in Kamuning with cave-aged Gruyere. Beautifully shaped amber bottle adorned with the Griffin logo. "Wonderfully refreshing golden beer" according to the label.

With organic certification from the Soil Association of the UK, Honey Dew is one of the UK's leading organically produced beers. "Classic English malts and the finest organic honey give the brew its mellow, rounded character, whilst English target hops add a deliciously zesty balance.... [P]erfect alternative to continental beers." The brewers are correct here, the honey being a central stream in the beer's great finish. It is award-winning ale for good reason. The beer's great for a light-hearted, lazy day and it reminds me of outdoor scenes. It has a very refreshing character with just the right hint of citrus. With a medium head exuding a trace of honey, it's the right drink for chatting or quick breaks, a much better alternative to cold soda or hot tea. However, though I'd stock a few bottles if I had the chance, it's not a beer I'd look for for more thoughtful periods. It's afflicted with the traditional UK ale weakness at 5.0%, which thins out by the end of one glass and can even acquire a cloying flavor by the second serving. I prefer organic beers from the Netherlands, Bio Ben being a top-rater. But that's for another post. Find out more about the fine tradition of Fuller's here.

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GORKHA, ST. GEORGE, LOVE AND ROSE

This should be called the Joy of Bad Beer ...
LOVE AND ROSE
Dali Beer Brewery, Yunnan, China consumed in early 2004.

At a meeting trying to think up events or activities that would get the attention, not to mention the imagination, of people regarding global warming, I remember making one not-so-original suggestion -- which elicited a few snorts -- and another that was so unique the reaction was a few seconds of stunned silence followed by a short, calmly delivered "Yuck". Both my suggestions of course had to do with beer: one sounded familiar -- "Save the Ales" while the next one -- the more infamous -- had to do with the launching of a high profile event called "The Annual Warm Beer Festival"...

I kind of think the latter would have been an iconic tradition of the joy we all stand to lose, but of course I was a minority and too many thought my proposal should be nominated to the World Dumbest Ideas of the Year awards. It's also the memory that came to mind while trying to share to you the notes I have of this singularly horrible beer called Love and Rose.

At 4.0%, the name of this beer is only half true. It's made of rose flavor and other faulty beer ingredients and so of course it tasted like rose and weak lager. It's like a "What the?!?! Someone actually thought this would work?!?!" situation. There's simply no love in this drink, except for the few seconds it takes to swallow very quickly and exhale and exclaim quietly, "For the love of God, why?"

Fortunately, I had the beer in stunning Lijiang in Yunnan, right beside a swift, flowing stream. I was with Sze Ping and Moxuan and we had proletarian steamed peanuts and lots of stories and laughs. I think we actually need brews like Love and Rose, if only to remind ourselves of, well, what? I don't know.


GORKHA, Premium Quality Nepali Beer
Authentic Himalayan Brew, Gorkha Brewery, brought to the Kamuning Republic straight from Nepal by fuzzybuddy Toby Sesamestreet in 2007.

5.5%, 650 ml amber bottle with matching bottle cap and boring bottle shape. As the label bravely says, the beer "embodies the bold spirit of the heroic Nepali soldiers from Gorkha -- the mid-Western hilly region from where Nepal was unified as a nation more than two hundred years ago." That's not something that every sudser can lay a claim to ...

I had it at the Kamuning Republic, right after Kala went off to Addis Ababa. It was a typical yellow, with a good head but there wasn't enough bitterness. It was lightly carbonated but I remember it felt very refreshing. I had it alone and at the end of a long and tiring day, with cashews. And I could actually imagine the place where it had come from, up, up and far, far away. Fond thoughts over this one despite the lack of lace and its aromatic deficit. Find out more about the brewery and the beer from here.


ST. GEORGE Premium Lager Beer
Brewed and bottled by Kombolcha Brewery (BGI Ethiopia), brought to Kamuning by Kala from Addis Ababa, 2007.

4.5%, this light beer has a crisp finish and a similar taste to the Southeast Asian gang of favored beer, such as Bintang Beer, Singha, San Miguel Pale Pilsen, and Tiger Beer. I had it in Kamuning with Dumaguete sardines in olive oil and since I was very thirsty and it came straight from the fridge to a wide, medium-height glass during a typical humid Philippine evening, it went down quite well in three gulps and even brought a smile to the face. There was little aroma except for a slight citrus scent (I tried to sniff it out before throwing it down my throat) and the flavor was a little hoppy and, strangely enough, like other local beers in the Philippines, though it came in a bottle the finish tasted a bit metallic. It has a beautiful label though with the beer name in Ethiopian script and a rendition of the esteemed saint, along with a matching yellow bottle cap.

Ethiopians date the coming of Christianity to Ethiopia to the fourth century AD. Coptic Christians make up the majority of the Ethiopian population, which is considered one of the world's oldest nations and the second most populous country in Africa. Ethiopia has a tradition of beer brewing. The Kamuning Republic actually has a number of African beers (four or five of which are Ethiopian), including a fair trade Mongozo label (the one with 'normal' ingredients was quite good though I can't recall right now if I also brought home the banana beer version...). But all this should be for another post... Cheers. Check out more information about St. George and its brewer by clicking here. #

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ESSENTIAL TRUTHS:

A belated, short reply to Ninja by way of a beer essay

The first time this blog came out, I was deluged with email and messages from friends and people I didn't know from inside the country and outside. It was a delight.

Those who have visited the Kamuning Republic have seen the collection, which continues to grow, and there have even been a few lucky ones whose visit coincided with an opening of an odd or grand brew. But to the folks who have not had the chance to drop by the KR along with people who periodically inquire about past and recent happenings in my pilsen-paved sojourns, I've set up this (still inadequately maintained) online log of a beeraholic's adventures. As I've often told the good vice-happy folks out there, the beer bottle collection is first and foremost an alcoholic journal, written for my two kids. Each bottle in the collection has tasting notes and morsels of memory -- matters that have to do with flavor and finish, what I had with the beer, where it came from, the brew's origin, who I had the beer with and where I consumed it, and so on.

The accounts have intrigued quite a few beer advocates, many of whom have sent comradely (and envious) tidings. A world class procrastinator who wears too many hats, I've neglected to answer some of the questions thrown my way, one of the first of which was from Ninja, whose question actually served as ballast to this post. She asked, "What is the essence of beer?"

To the true beer fan, this is a fundamental inquiry, and I think it's the right thing to ask. I mean, we're dealing with essential truths here, and while I'd probably get the vital stuff from Stevie Nicks, I think today it's best to answer Ninja's ask while chewing on holy bread from Dave Barry:

"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza."

Amen to that. Or almost amen. The gospel of pints is perpetual and the frothy faith has many interpretations.

Take the Germans, for instance. Some of them actually believe only German beer can be considered real beer, and to justify the chauvinism, they'd probably quote the Reinheitsgebot, a Purity Law which "insists that beer be made only from malted barley (and water and hops)." Which is quite understandable -- yeast wasn't in use yet when the legislation was introduced in 1516. And according to experts, the Germans do have a point, because the assertion is supported by etymology, the word 'barley' being a derivative of "beer-like".

That gives the Germans a claim on almost everything. Or almost nothing. "Beer is as old as civilization," Roger Protz tells us, and its an essential point -- one that should make you reevaluate civilization itself and revisit Ninja's question. What is the essence of beer? The answer may actually be more essential than you think.

A decade ago, wise folks from Cambridge University made the startling assertion that stood history on its head. Based on the work of Dr. Delwen Samuel, "who specializes in analysing ancient forms of food and drink," it was "alcohol that had convinced the ancients to stop wandering the fertile valleys of the Nile and the Euphrates, and settle down to grow grain."

Beer came first, not bread.

Poor Marie Antoinette. Maybe she was right.

Everyone else can eat their cake -- but please serve us our daily brew. (Some beers should actually be classified as liquid cake, but that's another story) #


NOTES: He writes thrillingly about our favorite subject -- if you see one of his books in National Bookstore or Powerbooks, get 'em -- but he has no relation to the Honorable Thriller. Regarding the Purity Law, see: Michael Jackson, "Why the Germans should win..." BeerHunter.com, 7 June 2006. There are plenty of great online beer sites and Jackson's BeerHunter.com is one of them (among my favorites is BeerAdvocate.com). See also Roger Protz, The Taste of Beer: A Guide to Appreciating the Great Beers of the World (Weidenfeld and Nicolson: London, 1998)


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PELFORTH, GREEN SPIRULINA, HE'BREW

A month passes you by and then before you know it there's another sneaking up behind you, ready to zip by. Which is a shame, really. There's so much to tell and so little time to put something decent together, especially since it's really the in-betweens that make life more interesting, framing the big stories and jabbing away at the pompous narratives smirking from the margins.

So here's something familiar, which will not need as much time as the telling of other stories. The story of three beers. The splash picture of course has to do with a good year -- last year, enough friends and family gave me a steady supply of what should be part of the basics, which is the Belgian Abbey beer called Leffe. In the collection picture next to this is shown a queue of Leffe Bruins, Leffe Blondes, Leffe Triples and Leffe Vieille Cuvees. I think ounce per ounce the Belgians make the best beers in the world, though I'd have preferences lodged elsewhere when it comes to specific styles. White beer, for instance -- Germany makes the best ones in the world, the most crisp, aromatic kinds. And stout beers, well, the Irish have the honors of course. But enough of the other beers. Here are three special ones picked from the shelf today and which can hopefully get some fluid running through the other chunks of text stuck in my mind.

Thanks for dropping by.


PELFORTH
Brune, biere de degustation
Produced by France, and brought back to the Kamuning Republic from Paris in 2001.

6.5%, with robust flavors of nutmeg and little caramel with just the right bitters, this beer has a great finish and comes in a beautiful, small 25 cl. green bottle which fits snugly inside a small bag and makes you feel like you have a beautiful, well-kept secret that's yours to keep.. Looking at this beer right now reminds me of a friend of mine, Densio, who has similar attributes.

I first tasted Pelforth Brune at the open air top of the towering Grande Arche de la Defense in Paris, and it tasted just right as I looked around me and surveyed the heady panorama of the great city. Kala didn't join me on the elevator ride to the top, unfortunately, but I did get her some more bottles of Pelforth later, which means she too has fond memories of the slow perfume of this excellent brew and the French capital. If you ever find yourself in France some time in the future, don't just go looking for great and interesting food and wine. Look for the still largely unheralded French beers -- and bring back great brewed memories.




TSINGTAO GREEN SPIRULINA
Green beer
Brewed in Qingdao, China by Tsingdao brewery Co. Ltd. and first tasted with Martin Baker in a largely deserted restaurant by the bay in Sai Kung, Hong Kong in early 2004.

4.5%, and yes, this clear bottle indeed once housed green beer and the cyanobacteria called spirulina, which includes pigments such as chlorophyll-a which is probably what helps give the green tint. For those who have heard of spirulina but who can't locate the place where they first heard it, spirulina is also used as a health food supplement or for making healthy drinks with water or water and honey. NASA also reportedly considers spirulina to be one of the primary foods that can be cultivated during long-term space missions (and now spacemen can have space beer!). Actually, whatever it's dietary worth really is beside the point. Focus on the nice thing -- it's green beer, and when you have it with great company, it should be just great. I remember that it was windy and very humid one afternoon in Sai Kung and Martin and I were quite thirsty. The funny Tsingtao brew of course just leapt out of the menu while Martin and I were contemplating what to order and also what to do with our silences and stories. No contest, of course, and we had a great laugh trying to understand the verdant attributes of Tsingtao's green brew, which still tasted like its regular bubblies except for a peculiar hint of herbal. Mr. Baker lives around the vicinity of that restaurant (Hong Kong ain't too big...) and in the last three years he's been dropping by every now and then at the place and also checking out the groceries. He hasn't come across our green beer again. It was like the Green Spirulina beer was served just for the blue moment we shared near the salt of Sai Kung, which has since occupied a special place in the humid, breeze-truncated place called memory.




HE'BREW
The Chosen Beer
Brought back in 2006 to the Kamuning Republic by Kala, this is a double India pale ale with rye malt and "brewed with an obscene amount of malts and hops". Brewed and bottled by the Schmaltz Brewing Co. of Saratoga srpings, New York, as "A tribute to Jewish stars." And how's that for an intro, eh?

10%, strong and flavorful and with a smoothness similar to German white beers, He'Brew is a beer I would look for if ever I get to visit New York one day. The beer comes in a tall, hefty brown bottle with a really quaint label filled with funny stuff about Lenny Bruce. For instance, branding it "the chosen beer" and also on the stem label: "Finally, one last four-letter word concerning Lenny Bruce: DEAD. At 40... that's obscene." Signed, "Dick Schaap." Kala brought back this bottle from her New York romp and reunion in September with great buddies Yvette and Jeng and Ebong and Beth. We had He'Brew with Alaminos Longganisa on our wee table in Kamuning, I think. Great memories and I want another bottle... #

ZATTE, GULPENER, WAGGLEDANCE

Here are the first three. Suggestions or questions about beer, send me an email. If you think there's an inside story behind one of the beers, or you have an inside story yourself that you need to share, write me. Here they are. Thanks for dropping by...


ZATTE
Amsterdamse Bio Tripel
Brewed in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, and brought to the Republic of Kamuning in January 2007 by the generous Maia B.

8%, full-bodied, robust complex flavor, with an aroma that matches its play on the palate. This is beer that is meant to be sipped, munched and savored. It's so full-bodied it feels like you're drinking cake. Great at 6PM or at 9AM and obviously for lunch as well... I had my Zatte with mild Irish cheese from Jenggay. If you live in the Philippines, this beer is best consumed slightly cool (not too much; you might lose the complexity). You have to look for this beer in Amsterdam if you want to taste it, but the search is worth it. I know the place actually, and it doesn't take much effort. Do yourself a favor beer friend. List this beer down.




GULPENER GLADIATOR
Giganten Robuust Bier
Beer from the Netherlands bought at and consumed in Brugges, Belgium in 2001.

10%, strong and okay body but the flavor is not as robust and memorable as a beer with such strength could be, which was a let-down considering the interest I took in the beer's name... I was with the Toasters when I had this Gulpener with real Belgian fries (a good beer friend double-fried in hot oil and then much, much hotter oil; externally extremely crisp yet soft inside). Best at room temperature in the cool continent.




WAGGLEDANCE
Young's Honey Beer
Brewed at the Ram Brewery in London, brought to me in Diliman by Anita Goldsmith in 2001.

5%, the finish is really interesting -- honey that's neither too rough on the palate or cloying. The finish is lager and honey. It's a different experience. I've tasted only two or three honey beers and this one was quite good compared to the others. The idea alone makes you smile -- and I've tasted mead -- and it was a pleasure to drink this beer during a lazy afternoon. I couldn't find good chow to go with it though but it was ok on its own in a glass. But that's about it -- I wouldn't get one again, or if I did it would only be to give family or friends a taste of honey beer or to test again which food will go well with it -- or maybe ten more reasons which I can rack up if needed... And yes, the name's very British -- delightful -- unfortunately, so is the strength of the beer (weak...). Beautiful amber bottle. #

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FIRST BEER POST, finally...

Welcome to Redster's Beer.

This is the long overdue beeraholic journal -- the log of adventures trawling the world in search of the best and worst beers on offer. The original intention of having a blog was not actually to post articles I've been writing; it was to record my notes on the different kinds of beer I've consumed -- my beer. But fate is unruly, hence the more edifying has come last...

We recently had to fix the garage where my beer bottles were displayed and I decided after the big clean up that it was as good a time as any to begin putting my beer notes online. On the photo is one small part of the bottle collection [taken from the study, which is not usable right now due to the spread of bottles...] and the other two batches are still in separate suitcases though a few are already on the bottom shelf. It was a delight to go through them from a different perspective -- on the floor, you get to see all the bottle caps! (haha, such are my quirky pleasures...)

I may have over 300 different bottles (not counting the bottles [and cans] I've given away). All the continents are represented, although due to brewing traditions, some have greater representation in my beer bottle parliament than others. The collection also includes rare bottles. With the exception of two bottles which I haven't opened and two bottles that were brought back to me empty (haven't met similar ones with contents so far), the contents of each bottle in the collection I have tasted and made notes of.

Call it my alcoholic journal for my kids, a log based on the country where the beer was produced and/or bought, or who bought it for me, when a bottle or bottles were opened, what food I had the beer with, price, flavor, finish, aroma, who I was with, the circumstances I was in, the weather, war and peace, and so on.

Thanks for visiting. Drop me a line one time and share your beer comments.

Or let's swap a bottle... #


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