Trappist Beer:
The Heavenly Brews of
Belgium’s Trappist Monasteries
By Roy Stevenson and Joe Stange

It feels like the middle of nowhere, amid the endless flatlands and one-lane paths of West Flanders. But to this small abbey come thousands of pilgrims from across Europe, North America and around the world. They come not to pray, but to drink.

Westvleteren is the village, so small it can hardly be called that, which is home to the Abbey of St. Sixtus. The monks here would likely be toiling in peaceful anonymity if it weren’t for their famous trappist beer. News stories, shrill or not, proclaim them the “best in the world.” As if it were possible to know. The pilgrims come to see what the fuss is about.

Many just enjoy a chalice or two in the abbey’s café. The fortunate ones collect two or three crates of the stuff from the abbey itself, having ordered it days or weeks in advance. On occasion the local phone network crashes under the weight of their calls. That’s an improvement over the old system, when cars lined up for miles without any guarantee of getting beer.

So what’s the big deal, anyway? Surely hype and scarcity do their part to make Westvleteren the holy grail of trappist beer. But the other Belgian Trappist ales – from Achel, Chimay, Orval, Westmalle and Rochefort – are all highly regarded among beer lovers. Brewers look to them for inspiration.

What is it about Trappist beer that makes it so sought after, whispered about reverently in beer cellars the world over?

The Story of the Trappist Breweries

There are six Trappist breweries in Belgium and one more, Koningshoeven, just across the border in the Netherlands. The forefathers of today’s Trappist monks left France after the turbulent Napoleonic era ravaged their monasteries – an edict abolished the right to join religious orders. So the monks left for Belgium, where, as Catholics, they were more welcome.

To this day Trappists maintain the rigorous order of obedience passed down from the Cistercians: poverty, silence and humility. Expected to live off their own resources, they farm, cook, clean, and make their own food and drink, some of which is sold to help finance the abbeys. Authentic Trappist products include butter, bread, cheese, pottery, soap and other curios, besides liquor and wine. And of course, beer ¬– thus Trappists belong to the ancient and proud homebrewing tradition.

By one early account the monks would brew trappist beer in two strengths, “one for the priests, and one for the nuns.” One can only speculate on what might have happened when the nuns got hold of the stronger stuff. To this day the stronger Trappist brews are sometimes called “father’s beer.” Early records show that beer was primarily for the monks’ own use, then later for sale to the curious public. The Chimay Abbey of Scourmont was the first to brew commercially, in the 1860’s. And the rest is history.

Often imitated but rarely duplicated, authentic Trappist beer must be made within the abbey walls (even if it is bottled elsewhere, as with Chimay). Only then can it carry the prized hexagonal seal. Proceeds also must support the order or charity. Those who try to pass a counterfeit product off as the real thing are likely to face lawyers from the International Trappist Association.

That protection explains the separate and wider range of ales often referred to as “abbey beers.” These take their inspiration from the Trappists but cannot use that designation. Abbey beers, rarely shy about using religious imagery for marketing purposes, are all over the map in terms of quality. Many are sweet and over-spiced, some are credible imitations, and a few are interesting enough to set their own standard. They range widely in strength and color. About all they have in common is that they are not Trappist.

But there are several reasons for the enduring quality of Trappist beer.

The Mystery of Trappist Beer

Never underestimate the power of mystique. Whether or not we admit it, the story behind a beer affects how much we enjoy it – and it's hard to beat that classic image of a habit-wearing monk with a mashing fork. Beer aficionados love the idea that these beers are made intra muros at the abbeys, and thus must somehow be blessed by God. However, we're not going to blow you a lot of smoke about secret monkish miracles or divinely sanctioned trappist beer. There are very earthly reasons these beers taste heavenly.

Today’s Trappist breweries tend to be modern affairs with professional lay brewers, computerized equipment and fancy websites. This should not be a surprise: Since the days of St. Benedict, monasteries have long been centers of study and learning with few qualms about using state-of-the-art tools. While brewery updates such as cylindro-conical fermenters are not always welcome among traditionalists, Trappist beers continue to set high standards.

The reason is plain enough: For the most part the monks remain stubborn about making full-favored trappist beers based on old, tried-and-true recipes. They may tweak the recipes from time to time, but we are dealing with a dogged conservatism befitting a 1,500-year-old religious order.

They weathered the postwar decades when taste disappeared from our slickly packaged foods and drinks, often to be replaced with corn syrup. When craft beer movements awoke in Belgium, U.K. and the U.S., the Trappist ales had been there all along. They offered an enlightening window to a more flavorful past.

Trappist breweries don’t share their recipes as rule, but there are plenty of credible clones out there. Most of the tricks are known well enough. Like most Belgian ales, bottle refermentation with a little sugar and yeast is part of the equation.

So are adjuncts, with substantial amounts of candi sugar and/or wheat starch used to lighten the body and enhance drinkability. In this case the candi sugar is not the plain stuff found in most homebrew shops, but a darker variety that lends color and flavor. The yeasts tend to enjoy relatively warmer fermentations to produce the classic fruity esters. Hops are of the Noble varieties and used mainly for bittering. Spicing, if done at all, must be done with great subtlety and a light hand.

Any home brewer who's successfully pulled off a good Trappist clone knows you don't need a cross nailed to the brewhouse walls. It's simple: These beers remain great because of how they're made.

Of course, a little hype and mystique doesn’t hurt either.

The Breweries

Orval: The present abbey, Notre Dame d’Orval, stands beside the poignant ruins of the old, sacked and burned during the French Revolution. It has a turbulent history, having been destroyed and pillaged many times in its 1,000-year old existence. The Abbey grounds, ruins, and museum are open to the public.

Orval added cylindro-conical fermenters, shortened its primary fermentation, and mellowed its bitterness by adjusting the water. Yet its dry-hopping and mixed fermentation (a late dose of Brettanomyces) help make it a unique craft beer far ahead of its time. Website: www.orval.be.

Chimay: The best-known Trappist monastery is on a small hill in the called Scourmont, near the town of Chimay in southern Belgium. The Romanesque abbey was built in 1850.

Chimay has perhaps taken the most heat for losing some character amid the addition of cylindro-conicals, yet its beers remain tasty ambassadors for Trappist ales and Belgian beer in general. Website: www.chimay.com.

Rochefort: The beer is named for the small Ardennes town near the Abbey of Notre Dame de St. Remy. Originally a convent founded in 1230, the current buildings can be traced back to the 1600s. Beer was first brewed here in 1595. The abbey’s post-Napoleonic restoration came in 1887.

Many regard the Rochefort 10 as equal or even superior to Westvleteren 12. It has a touch of coriander but doesn't overdo it, unlike many commercial (and homebrewed) imitations. The brewery is not open to the public. Website: http://www.trappistes-rochefort.com (in French only).

Westvleteren: The small Abbey of St. Sixtus, near Ieper and Poperinge in West Flanders, dates from the 1830s. See section below on how to purchase its much-sought, highly regarded trappist beer. Website: www.sintsixtus.be/eng.

Westmalle: The abbey of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, established in 1794, is on the plains of Westmalle outside Antwerp.

Next to Chimay, Westmalle is the largest Trappist brewery. Its dubbel and tripel literally defined those styles. Despite commercial pressures they have remained thankfully hoppy and dry. Website: www.trappistwestmalle.be/en.

Achel: Uniquely positioned astraddle the Dutch border, this is the newest and smallest brewery on the Trappist block. OK, there was a brewery here just for the monks as far back 1850, and evidence of monasteries here going back to 1687. The Monastery of Our Lady of Saint-Benedict opened its small brewpub/cafeteria to the public in 1998. Website: www.achelsekluis.org/english

Trappist Beer - Top 10

The Top Ten Trappist Beers. Or so we say. Some people hate them but we are shameless fans of lists – especially beer lists. They give us something to argue about, and we like to argue. For those lucky folks hunting Trappist beers for the first time, this gives you a starting point.

Here is our list of top 10 Trappist beers. Some are widely available, others are very hard to get. We are not professional tasters – our methodology is simple: Pure, biased, hedonistic opinion based on multiple trials during our combined years living in Belgium.

1. Orval. In our minds the most idiosyncratic Trappist brew is also the most addictive. Vive le dry-hopping. Its mixed fermentation – with a strain of Brettanomyces in the house cocktail – is another part of the magic. Rarely do beers come any drier. Orvalophiles vary on how long to age it; some say fresh, some say up to five years or more. We say six months to a year is perfect. At 6.5 to 7 percent strength (depending on age), it's light for a Trappist beer. So have a few.

2. Westvleteren 12. Top rankings from sites like Ratebeer help to create the demand for this beer. The difficulty of getting it only fuels the hype, since the hard-working monks ask that no one else sell it (please). Yet beer lovers abroad pay ridiculous gray market sums because they think they must try the best. But is it the best? We have no idea. Probably depends on your mood. But we think it is really, really good. This is a strong, dark ale of richness, harmony and contemplation. Forget eBay. Make the pilgrimage. See our accompanying description of how to get this beer the holy way.

3. Rochefort 10. Some connoisseurs argue for Rochefort's greatness over that of well-hyped Westvleteren. They have an argument. This is a true bedtime beer, warming and ponderous. The chalice is nice and all, but we like a snifter to trap that incredible aroma – caramelized figs? – And hold it while we sip. For as long as possible.

4. Westmalle Dubbel. Did you think we'd say the Tripel first? Close call. In the end we prefer the Dubbel for its slightly greater versatility with food – roast bird, grilled steak, Chinese food and more. It remains defiantly hoppy. It evolves with age, as the hops mellow and malt steps forward; yet fresh on draft it is a dangerously drinkable revelation.

5. Westvleteren Blond. The abbey launched her in 1999. Since then she has quietly grown in the shadow of brothers 8 and 12. Those who visit the famous abbey café, In De Vrede, often give her a pass and skip right to the big boys. Yet she provides big character of her own, floral and hoppy, in a svelte and quaffable 5.6 percent frame. She is a wallflower. If you ever get the chance, ask her to the dance.

6. Westmalle Tripel. Fruity but floral, bittersweet with dryness that begs for another sip... No wonder this is the favorite of so many. Try it with asparagus. Yes, really.

7. Rochefort 8. He's not the 12, but don't make the mistake of thinking this 9.2 percent bruiser is just a little guy. Citing drinkability, some even prefer it to the bigger barley wine.

8. Petit Orval. It's roughly half the alcohol of its big brother yet keeps that distinctive Orval character. Sadly it's only available at L'Ange Gardien, a café just down the road from the abbey gates. If we were monks we'd drink it all day. Are they taking applications?

9. Westmalle Extra. OK, to be honest, we've never tried the stuff. A couple of trusted friends with highly trained taste buds swear by it. The monks only make this 5-percent pale ale a few times a year and ostensibly keep it all for themselves. A few bottles sneak out, but we haven't snagged one. Yet. However, we have tried…

10. Achel 5 Blond. When Achel re-launched its brewing in 1998, Brother Thomas from Westmalle came to develop the recipes. Possibly inspired by the Westmalle Extra, this aromatic 5.3-percent quaffer is only available on draft in the abbey's cafeteria.

The Abbey Beers - Top 10

Now for the non-Trappists. We think these are among the best Belgian examples. Happy hunting.

1. La Rulles Triple. Avoiding the sweetness that plagues the style, this one is smartly hopped and nearly unbeatable if found on draft.

2. St. Bernardus 12. Evolved from the Westvleteren 12, which St. Bernardus once brewed under license, this big fella now shows great complexity all his own.

3. De Dolle Oeral. Inspired by Orval yet offers more character in distinctive De Dolle style.

4. De Ranke Guldenberg. Another well-hopped Tripel, somewhat bitter, floral and dry with deceptive strength.

5. De Ryck Arend Dubbel. Big malt character yet showing great balance, a classic take.

6. Slaghmuylder Witkap Stimulo. Grassy, grainy and refreshing "singel."

7. Dupont Moinette Brune. The Blonde is popular but we prefer this dubbel with its serious farmhouse leanings.

8. De la Senne Jambe-de-Bois. Watch out for this hoppy and dry new tripel, and expect it to further improve.

9. St. Bernardus Pater 6. This lighter dubbel-style ale begs to join you at dinner.

10. Cazeau Tournay Blond. Relatively light for a tripel, unspiced and confidently hopped.

Trappist Beer in Westvleteren
Making the Pilgrimage to St. Sixtus

Thanks to hype, high quality and scarcity, the Westvleteren beers are easily the most sought-after Trappist ales. In theory they are only available from the Abbey of St. Sixtus itself or the In De Vrede café across the street, where you can always drink them and often buy a six-pack. Otherwise, as a condition of sale, the monks ask that the beers not be resold.

We believe in honoring their wishes. So, it's time to prioritize that trip to Belgium you've been meaning to take all these years. And when you do, here's how to get two or three cases of your very own.

First, plan to rent a car. (You can cycle or walk to Westvleteren from nearby Ieper or Poperinge, but good luck carrying all that beer.)

Second, call 070 21 00 45, (or 011 32 70 21 00 45 if calling from the States). There will be recordings in Dutch, French and English. Listen and find out when you can call back to reserve which type of beer.

Next, call again at the reservation time. Be patient, because the line will be busy. Set aside some time and be serious about hitting redial over and over until you get through. Remember that great beer lies at the end of your quest. For the record: It's never taken us longer than 45 minutes to get through. Sometimes it's only five or 10.

When you get through, make your appointment. Don't worry, he speaks English. Tell him your license plate number (if possible) and how much beer you want.

Finally, show up on time. In fact, be early enough to enjoy some in the café across the street. Then go get your treasure. The Westvleteren 12 will run you €36 per case (about US$48). That's about $2 a bottle. Just think about what those suckers are paying on eBay.

Carefully ship the beer or pack it in your luggage (just imagine the site of all that Westy in your cellar). If there's not room in your suitcases, go ahead and drink some. You earned it. And the brothers approve.

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