The Barcelona Microbrew Scene: Glops

by emily on April 27, 2012

Spain is by all accounts a wine country.  But despite the vinters hold on the Iberian Peninsula, there is a growing microbrewery movement taking root, especially in Barcelona.

These Spanish brewers are worthy additions to the world’s brewing scene as they have that certain trait of joyful insanity that seems to be instilled in many small brewers, propelling them forward to create a product that can be both a drain on financial resources and time.  They are the modern day Don Quixote’s and they are forging the way against the tide of Spain’s wine culture.  In Catalonia, this enthusiasm for pursuing something different is embodied in Barcelona’s first microbrewery, Glops.

The brewery is a small operation, comprised of only one enthusiastic man, Alex, and the occasional aid that comes in the form of his mother.  His passion for beer and its possibilities was sparked during a trip to Munich when he was 18 and experienced the wonder that is German beer.  When he returned to Barcelona, he enrolled in an agricultural school that had a fermentation program and eventually set up his company Llúpols i Llevats, which means hops and yeast in Catalan.  The name of his line of beer, Glops, means ‘gulps’ in his mother tongue.

His beer also stands for something in Catalonia.  The beer is a tangible product of how he views his own culture and how he would like others to view the Catalan region.  As his success in brewing grew, people began to ask for a purely Catalan beer.  As there wasn’t one, he created it.  He wanted to create something that tasted like the region and something that prominently featured ingredients all Catalans recognize and identify with.  The result is Glops D’Hivern, one of the most unusual and fascinating beers I’ve experienced to date.

Glops D’Hivern, despite its name, is not purely a winter beer.  This rosemary and honey beer highlights Catalonia’s honey production and the sweet flavoring sits well with the rosemary, an herb that grows in abundance in the rough Catalan countryside. To Alex, the plant is worthy of Catalans because of its tough and hardy nature and ability to survive in difficult conditions.

The meaty rosemary aroma caught me off guard, but slipped in like a well-tailored glove to the sweet silky drinkability of the honey.  The unusualness of the aroma and taste pairing left me bowled over and pleasantly surprised, sort of like when I had my first taste of Cantillon’s tart champagney gueuze.

For a long time, I couldn’t stop thinking about that beer after I left the brewery.  It was savory and fragrant in a way that made the beer feel like a meal in such a direct way that I had never experienced before.  Other beers have felt filling, but the connection between beer’s past as an occasional meal substitute came from a reliance on general heaviness, with their pudding-like foam and velvety alcohol.  Never on taste alone.  This beer is light and playful while hitting such a deep note of umaminess and depth that it is totally satisfying without making me want to take a nap afterward.

However, Alex faces difficulties in wine soaked Spain despite even with a great beer.  Like all brewers, he faces the challenge of people’s tastes and the perception of the drink.  This is probably exacerbated even further by the prevalence of wine in his country’s culture and palates.

There’s also the issue of increasing awareness of his craft in more beer-friendly markets, like the UK and Belgium.  As it currently stands, smaller outfits like his need to comply with the same price standards and qualifications as the larger industrial giants in Spain because there’s no legislative structure to support microbreweries.  This basically makes export impossible because of price and logistical implications.  However, Alex’s efforts in the brewing industry have given him enough street cred to create a special interest group for small brewers in the country.  The group is currently working on lobbying the Spanish government to create a separate set of laws and guidelines for smaller operations in the country.  He’s definitely fighting a good fight and if successful, his group’s efforts would help make it possible for Spain’s fledgling microbrew industry to grow the stronger roots needed for survival, sort of like his region’s resilient rosemary.

Even though it’s been a few weeks since I met Alex and tried his beer, I’m still thinking about it. To me, that’s the mark of a ‘craft’ beer, when a personality behind the beer comes through.  I think this is also why I’m so fascinated by the drink overall.  In so many ways, beer is simply the vessel that carries the story behind its creation, and that story is always about the people.  Brewers are storytellers, albeit by a different name.  They carry on the tradition, the values, and the mythology of the culture that shapes them. And when a story, or a beer, is well thought out, how can it be anything but interesting?

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I was recently asked by RyanAir’s Inflight Magazine to put together a little restaurant and café guide for Brussels.  It was a lot of fun to make the list, so I thought I would share a more expansive one for those of you who won’t have a chance to see the article while flying on Europe’s favorite discount airline.

So, without further ado, here is the first installment of my personal top places to grab a drink in Brussels:

Maison du Peuple: This trendy bar right on the Parvis St. Gilles attracts a fun mixed crowd.  On the weekend mornings it’s full of bougie young families that brunch and slightly hung over college students studying, while during the weeknights you’ll find people from all age ranges talking to friends over their wide array of beverage options.  The weekends host great DJ and band sets too.  The café’s managed to hit that sweet spot of being a cool neighborhood bar that attracts young hip twentysomethings without being too pretentious for older people.  They also have a dangerous happy hour from 19h – 20h where cocktails are two for the price of one.

39 Parvis St. Gilles
1060 St. Gilles

L’Atelier: L’Atelier is the café to experience for those on a student budget but wanting to sample more of Belgium’s esoteric beers. Located near the campuses of the VUB and ULB, this windowless, modern take on the traditional Belgian brown café is an easy way to spend hours expanding your beer knowledge. The atmosphere encourages conversation amongst those at your table and those sitting next to you.  Striking up conversation with strangers is made even easier by the extensive availability and ever-changing roster of Belgian beer.

77 Rue Elise
1050 Ixelles

Poechenellkelder: Poechenellekelder is a serious beer bar highlighting the best of Belgium’s rich beer culture. Despite its location directly across from the Manneken Pis, this atmospheric café is usually only frequented by local Bruxellois. Sometimes it’s possible to overhear conversations in Brusselaar, a special dialect spoken only in the city. This café mixes its extensive beer menu with a varied selection of jenever, like blood-orange, mocha, limoncello and about twenty others. All of this liquid culture is happily washed down alongside a quirky decorating scheme featuring eclectic memorabilia like crossbows, smoking goats and a collection of costumed Manneken Pis statuettes.

Rue du Chêne 5
1000 Brussels

Le Corbeau: Le Corbeau suffers from a serious personality disorder.  Sunday to Thursday, it’s a traditional Brussels brown café.  Seeing old men flip through their daily papers while slurping up a big bowl of bolognaise isn’t too uncommon.  Then comes Friday and Saturday nights.  The Corbeau serves up serious beer in a serious glass: the Chevalier.  A litre glass of beer (the bar proclaims that it costs 500 euros, so if you break it, you buy it.  However, I think it’s more for theft prevention) has a tendency to function like a series of quick shots of tequila – in that it makes everyone do crazy things, like dance on the tables.  The main selling point of this bar is that, without fail at some point on Friday and Saturday evenings, someone will be so moved by the song that’s playing (Gwen Stefani’s ‘Bananas,’ a disco version of Whitney Houston’s ‘I will always love you,’ etc) that they just need to dance…on the table.  It’s actually a genius move because with everyone dancing on the tables, there’s more room for people to come in since the floor space is left available.

Rue Saint-Michel 18
1000 Brussels

Old Oak: One of the benefits of living in Brussels is the international base of the city’s population.  Its proximity to the British Isles means that yes, there’s a decent amount of Brits in the area and that means one thing – pub quiz.  The Old Oak is a smallish, darkly wooded bar in the Schuman area of the EU quarter and has the city’s best pub quiz.  The sound system is top notch so you can hear the questions, which makes it leaps and bounds better than the other questionable sound systems like at Michael Collins. The MC, a cheeky Irish man who appears to have eyes in the back of his head, makes it worth a go as well because he calls you out for doing something stupid when it appears that he can’t even see you.

Rue Franklin 26
1000 Brussels

Goupil le Fol: While Belgium is known for its beer, Goupil le Fol offers a respite from all the yeast and hops with its deliciously refreshing house-made fruit wines and cognac. This multiple-level lounge/bar is a haven for lovers and drinkers in search of a cozy couch. A former brothel, the atmospheric twists and turns of the old building are livened up by the always-changing paintings, antique books and odd knick-knacks. You can easily spend hours sipping away on one of the cafes chilled drinks while listening to the crooning chansons of Edith Piaf and the hometown hero, Jacques Brel.

Rue de la Violette 22
1000 Brussels

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Santa Claus, and the other variations of wintertime’s favorite jowly character, is the world’s most famous happy fat man.  The runner-up to this rotund jolliness though is Gambrinus, the King of Flanders. He is also, and most importantly for the world and Belgium, considered to be the king of beer.

Nobody knows for sure if this king was real or if he was even just one person.  He may be a mythical mish-mash of Jan Primus, or Jean the First, with a man named Jean Sans Peur (Fearless John).  There are also probably character traits from some beloved local drunk mixed in there too.  This amalgamation of people has led to the creation of the legendary boozy Belgian ruler from the Middle Ages, Gambrinus.

In any case, this storied character is routinely depicted as a joyfully paunchy man astride barrels of beer and a frothy mug in tow.  This image of drunken revelry is corroborated with the stories that surround him, making him appear to be a general all-around good guy and bon vivant.

One legend depicting how he was given the mantle the King of the Brewers goes back to the time of the Dukes of Brabant.  In a quest to appoint a new leader, the brewers decided that the first man to complete an undertaking of beer-related strength would be worthy of the title.  So the brewers set forth a barrel of beer in the Grand Place and decreed that any man who could lift and carry the barrel to a designated spot two yards away would become the leader of the guild.

Man after man struggled to carry the barrel, which was probably an astounding 300+ pounds at the time.  After all the men had volunteered and failed, Gambrinus, who had been watching over the trials, offered to try and complete this seemingly impossible task.  He ordered for the barrel to be tapped and then promptly laid down underneath it, drinking the entire contents inside.  Now empty, he was able to successfully carry the barrel and win the title King of the Brewers.

The Belgian Knighthood of the Brewers Mash Staff, the modern-day version of the brewers’ guild from the Middle Ages, have their own stories about the man they still hold as one of their emblematic personages.  The Knighthood regards him as one of their own because he was one of the first rulers in Belgium to grant licenses for brewing and selling beer.  He also had a penchant for consuming large amounts of the stuff during festivals.  According to their account, Gambrinus further solidified his role as patron of all things beery and enjoyable when he succumbed to that festive, happy feeling you develop for everyone after a few glasses of beer.  Upon reaching that point of universal love, he clambered on top of emptied beer barrels to proclaim his love and admiration for his fellow soldiers during a post-battle celebration.

Today, April 11th, is this mythical man’s birthday and in recognition for the man who continues to inspire Belgian brewers, I feel like there is no better drink to raise in his honor than Cantillon’s Rosé de Gambrinus.

The Rosé de Gambrinus is Cantillon’s framboise beer.  Made by blending fresh raspberries in two-year-old lambic, this fruit beer has a sweetish taste from the natural fruit sugars with a nice tart crack at the end, making the drink light and balanced.  The sweetness is subtle, so your tongue isn’t left bathing in residual syrup afterward because no artificial sweeteners or sugars are added.

The drink itself is a shiny candy-colored red with a Willy Wonka pinkness to its head when first poured.  Without a doubt, it is an incredibly girly looking drink, so many people like to pair a framboise beer with Valentine’s Day.  Even so, the drink’s measured play between sweet, sour and pinkness lets it be drinkable without ever verging into juice-territory.  And as a lambic, there’s a gentle carbonation and naturalness to its flavor, which makes it more like a nice bubbly wine than what most people usually associate with beer.  This also makes it ideal as a speech-giving drink and something to cheers with after.  I think Gambrinus would approve from his perch on top of the empty beer barrels.

Here’s to many happy returns!

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The Barcelona Effect

by emily on April 9, 2012

Barcelona is the sort of place that makes me nervously tongue-tied. No matter how much I enjoy myself while I’m there, I always leave feeling untethered and unsure.

Spain intimidates me because it’s so close to the world that I know, but operating on its own frequency.  It’s this alternate rhythm that’s nerve-wracking. When you travel often, you come to realize that most places and cities in the world share a common hum that ticks throughout, connecting them to the same vibration. So when you visit a place like Spain where there is a different time signature, you experience a disarming shock. The common thread you’ve come to expect for a shred of normalcy in a new place isn’t so common anymore.

I think this shock hits hard coming from Belgium.  Belgium is frequently called the most Northern of the Southern cultures, and the most Southern of the Northern.  The grey area that Belgians excel at living in lets people develop a nebulous sense of understanding between the two latitudinal halves of Europe. But a visit to Spain blows that shred of Southern cultural understanding to bits.

The moment of being overwhelmed and terrified comes when you realize how long this culture has been operating apart from your previously perceived general order of things. It seems like an obvious and glib statement, but there’s a fine line separating the knowing from the understanding. We know there are different ways of life, but experiencing the manifestation of those differences makes you comprehend how fantastically malleable human society is. You can’t help but wonder how many more places there are in the world like this, places that offer a glimpse of how large the bottom of the ice berg you’re standing on may be. The possibility of that grandness makes you feel very small.

Barcelona augments Spain’s feeling of particularity. As the capital of Catalonia, a region whose engines are always revving to take off from Spain, the sense of uniqueness and otherness is celebrated. It’s logical that Picasso, Joan Miro and Antoni Gaudi found inspiration in their home country, snuggling in amongst its difference from the rest of the Iberian Peninsula.

I like Barcelona because of this celebration and pride. It’s a surprisingly freeing feeling coming from places like Brussels where the individuality of Art Nouveau was torn down before locals could understand its value. Or from the US, where for many people the stamped out patterns of suburbia are the norm. Suddenly seeing the fanciful architecture of Gaudi and other modernists pop up next to traditional Gothic-style apartment complexes makes you feel like you’ve accidentally tripped down the rabbit hole.

The Sagrada Familia, Antoni Gaudi’s massive ode to God and modernism, is Barcelona’s major cathedral and one of the city’s main symbols. The façade drips with hallucinogenic natural forms and the spires look as if they’ve been formed by a child who slowly and deliberately dribbled sand droplets on top of each other to build the sandy stalagmites.

The Sagrada Familia exemplifies this thing that Barcelona does so well – it takes a standard form and flips it ever so slightly. The cathedral has the essence of all the cathedrals or grand European buildings I’ve visited, but is psychotropic with its sculptures of animals melting into human forms and the skeletal bones of the interior. Its scaffolding seems normal and apropos for the building’s grandness as well, but only until you remember that it’s still being built, not renovated.

Gaudi’s cathedral captures another element that runs throughout Spain.  It’s this feeling that every celebration of individuality and experimentation has a direct connection to tradition.  This quiet assertion that the past can be mixed with new ideas and risks without having the world come to an end feels humbling from my current American perspective.

Spain feels like it uses its traditional past differently.  It reminds me that sometimes in America we focus a bit too much on maintaining tradition exactly as it is for the sake of tradition.  We sometimes forget to remember that at one point, our tradition was once somebody’s vanguard.  Tradition is not meant to be fought for or against, but to serve as a foundation and a building block.

So why am I tongue-tied? This is my third trip to Spain, and my second one to Barcelona, so I wasn’t expecting to leave again with the feeling that the floor had just opened up beneath me. I left being reminded how large Europe was and more importantly, that I had fallen into a trap that Americans are more likely to fall into than others.  We come from a relatively uniform culture within a continent-wide country, making it hard to actively remember that as a continent, Europe does not share our cultural consistency. We have an inverse connection between geographical size and cultural homogeneousness.  Only in the US can you spend a weekend on the other side of the country while speaking the same language as in your hometown and without experiencing major culture shock.

I’m not sure when I fell into the feeling that Europe is an accessible lump culture, but thankfully Spain cracked apart my narrowing perception. I started to believe a little too strongly in that specific hum of life that I had found woven throughout my other travels. But that’s the benefit of traveling and the need to be overwhelmed with the largeness of human versatility. There is a common thread that links multiple cultures together, and it’s necessary to believe in that commonality. But the awesome feeling of traveling is when you realize that there’s more than one possible thread connecting you to other ways of life and the people who live them. The dumbfounding beauty is knowing that there is an infinite number of threads out there and that we only shortchange ourselves once we stop looking.

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Sirvent Horchateria – Barcelona, Spain

by emily on March 22, 2012

When I was in Barcelona the other week, I stumbled across a small neighborhood diner specializing in horchata. The area was only a few minutes from Las Ramblas, Barcelona’s main tourist drag, but felt years away from the strip’s touts and American chains.

The horchateria felt like it hadn’t been updated since the late 80s.  The best feature of the whole place though was that you could purchase jugs of horchata to-go. If I didn’t have to get on a plane the next day with a carry-on, I would have completely supported Spain’s economy by grabbing a couple containers of my favorite creamy cinnamon-laced drink.

Sirvent  Xorchateria
Ronda Sant Pau 315
Barcelona, Spain

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Best of Brussels Blog on Bottlepopped!

March 16, 2012

Welcome to the first installment of Bottlepopped! Basically, every so often I’ll ask various people of note who I think are interesting, funny, and knowledgeable, etc, about their favorite places, favorite drinks, and yadda yadda. First up is one Miss Jane Goodyear.  Jane’s a fellow American who found herself in Brussels during study abroad, fell [...]

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National Pie Week and Nigel Slater’s Cottage Pie with Spiced Parsnips

March 12, 2012

March is a curious fellow.  It always feels like it’s the second-string hitter in a game of baseball, warming up and flexing his muscle, hoping to swing that homerun out of the doldrums of winter. This always feels like Brussels’ month to me too. This feeling of seesawing between the sunny warmth of the future, [...]

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Belgian Cuisine: The Belgian Friterie

March 7, 2012

I acknowledge not everyone has their own personal deep fryer (but think about the possibilities if you did!), so making Belgian fries at home is probably not an option.  This is where the friterie/fritkot comes in. These fry shacks can be roaming trailers, making the circuits between cities or rooted huts on public squares.  They [...]

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How to Make Traditional Belgian Fries

March 5, 2012

In a country that teetered dangerously close to dissolution for the last year and a half, there was one national thing that most Belgians could identify with and believe in.  This one belief gave the tiniest bit of hope that Belgians could unite around something. Fries are not French. Fries are a thing here.  They [...]

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Bara Brith for St. David’s Day – Welsh Speckled Bread

March 1, 2012

One of the benefits of living in a city like Brussels, where cultures are constantly mashed together, is learning about quirky holidays from other countries.  For example, sometimes you’ll see children in blackface here on St. Nicholas Day in December, in honor of the Dutch-version of Santa Claus and the character Zwarte Piet.  There’s also [...]

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