Triple Tripel vs. Asparagus Face-Off

A soul-witheringly bad day necessitated some midweek revels in the form of a Tripel taste-off paired with some smoky, griddled asparagus, inspired by a Zak Avery video along the same lines I watched a while back (link pending ;) lots of links pending on this blog now as I compose all these posts on my phone, and links seem a bit much like hard work, to be honest. Soz).

My notes are laughable, frankly, so make of this what you will:

Tripel Moine (ABV 7.3%)

The garish and rather crude label defacing this bottle does this delightful, subtle beer no favours, and I was genuinely surprised at the sophistication of the bottle's contents in view of its gaudy exterior.

Tripel Moine evokes a sunny yet crisp and blustery day flaneuring in a bar by the beach on the Belgian riviera. Salty, intensely floral, and the aroma of warm, grass-topped sand dunes.

A wonderful surprise, and an out-of-the-ordinary Tripel.

95

Trappist Achel Blond (8% ABV)

I love the complex Achel Brune, so it was something of a disappointment to discover how run-of-the-mill this Trappist brewery's Tripel is, at least on this showing.

The aroma and flavor profile of autumn fruits eaten on a dry summer's day (hmm... time machine required there, then) but empty, somehow.

The nose became disturbingly agricultural as it warmed.

83

St. Idesbald Tripel (9% ABV)

A by-the-numbers Tripel I won't be returning to, and that you really don't need either to taste, nor to hear any more about from me.

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The asparagus worked really well with all of these. Thanks for the idea, Zak :)

Brugse Zot Dubbel (7.5% ABV)

An undemanding, but in my opinion not particularly rewarding, Dubbel with a chestnut brown appearance, predominantly malty nose, chocolate/caramel flavour profile with some fruit and a well-balanced finish that drinks thinly for its strength.

Nothing exceptional or particularly demanding of either respect or a great deal of further attention here, however, although I'd be happy to taste it again.

58

Trappistes Rochefort 6 (7.5% ABV)

Poured at about 14% celsius into matching glassware, Trappistes Rochefort 6 has the appearance of builder's tea viewed with strong sunlight behind it. This bottle displayed a quickly collapsing head with a gentle bead of carbonation.

This most gentle and elusive of the Trappistes Rochefort brews displayed a dried fruit and Old Holborn-pouch nose, giving way to rye and malt, sweet spice and Muscovado, with a dry, hop-brightened finish. This beer displays a gentle, elegant finish with a deceptively lithesome mouth feel that belies its strength. You could kid yourself into believing this was a seasonal session beer, until you fell over.

Trappistes Rochefort don't seem to put a sandal wrong. This is a house choice.

93

Westmalle Dubbel (7% ABV)

Another Trappist classic, I admire everything about this brand, even its aesthetics. The labels are a model of elegant understatement, and the heavy chalice glassware is redolent of the brew's monastic origins whilst being simultaneously functional, allowing as it does the imbiber to savour its aromas to the full.

The nose is lean, pencil sharpenings and rich malt, with a hint of bitter chocolate. The complex esters of exotic fruit wash over the palate, and once again the sweet-sharp finish is poise personified.

This is another Trappist offering I will endeavour to keep examples of in the house to enjoy with friends in subdued light around a robust fire on bitter evenings.

92

Chimay Red (7% ABV)

Goodness me, what a come down.

The Beer Ritz guys tout Chimay's 'standard' house ale as having a copper hue, redcurrant and soft malt on the palate and a dry hop finish.

However, I don't get any of that, dryness aside, perhaps.

First things first: I undoubtedly drank this at above the recommended 10-12 degrees Celsius. I could tell that by the way it exploded all over the kitchen when I took the crown cap off. In directing the beery shower into my glass, I undoubtedly took more yeast into the glass than was my intention.

Normally, I favour a slow pour into the middle of the glass, reserving a mouthful to swill the yeast free with, priming my first taste of the decanted remainder with the yeast to frame the experience. It's a concept a Dutch landlord introduced me to in Maastricht recently, and whilst he was unquestionably a somewhat singular individual (in a dedicated, nice way; Google 'Take One Maastricht' for more on this) I am rather taken with the idea at present, and am riffing on it.

In other words, I'd have been sampling the yeast anyway, and suspect this would have made little difference to my judgment. The divergence in temperature is another matter, however, and I will chill my next bottle rather more judiciously to that which is suggested on the label.

So, copper coloured, yes, but also metallic in taste if this example is anything to go by. Malt, some dryness, not much else to report in terms of nose, taste or finish. Lacking complexity, and surprisingly thin-tasting for a beer of this strength.

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