Happy Orval Day!

Today, 26 March, is apparently 'Orval Day', which is a happy coincidence as I'd been meaning to write a few words on the subject for a while.

Actually I've been meaning to drink some Orval for a while. It's been too long.

Now I've been a fan of Orval since I first sampled it on my 17th birthday, which was a worryingly long time ago. But here's the thing...

The greatest of all Trappist beers?

Beer aficionados tend to divide into two distinct camps. There are those who, like me, think Orval is the greatest of all the Belgian Trappist ales, but there are many who consider it second-rate in comparison to Chimay, Westmalle, Westvleteren; pretty much all the others. I've even heard it said that it's 'not really a proper Trappist beer'. And it's true that it's quite stylistically different to the others and a bit of an outlier.

I suspect that - amongst those informed enough to take a view - those of us who express a preference for Orval are in the minority, but there are a fair few of us.

And I think what it comes down to is whether one actually really likes the 'proper' Trappist ales or not. I have to admit that I don't, particularly. I've never enjoyed the spicy, herby, clovey, bananary sweetness of Dubbels, Tripels and Quads. I could happily get through life without ever having another bottle of Rochefort 8 or Chimay Gold. I can appreciate these beers being well made, while just not personally liking the features imparted by the yeast that helped make them.

But I like Orval because it has less of the characteristics of Trappst and Abbey beers that put me off. It's hoppier, livelier, more sessionable, more quenching and sports aromatics more in line with what you'd expect from the New World than an old monastery. 

I like that it's 'only' 6.2% ABV (though it's bottled-conditioned and may consequently strengthen over time). I like the freshness on the nose, like a subtle waft of incense. I like the dry hoppiness that comes through in the finish.

So that's an explanation of sorts - Orval is the Trappist beer for those who don't especially enjoy Trappist beers. Which sounds like damnage with faint praise, though that's really not my intention.

If you've never tried Orval, give it a go - particularly if you think you don't like Belgian strong ales. It's lighter and weaker and drier and less classically Belgian.

And it has possibly the coolest glass of any beer ever!

The brewery where everything turns sour

So, this year I've got a bit of a travel bug biting me squarely on the ballsack, and as a consequence I'm metamorphosing into sort of a less amiable version of Michael Palin. One who has to pay his own way to go to places and doesn't have a TV crew in tow.

Essentially, the plan is to try and tick off 12 whole new countries in 2015, and given that I've already visited 30-odd, including most (though not all) of the closer ones, it could be a bit of a challenge, so I'm trying to get off to a flying start. Except that I don't like flying all that much.

Sampling beer at the Cantillon brewery

Last month we had a short break to Marrakech (and I'll blog a Moroccan tagine recipe once I've perfected it) and the other day we had an even shorter trip to the closest country I hadn't done yet - Luxembourg.

A really, really fucking short trip, actually. About 80 minutes. There's not an awful lot to do in Lux.

However, the upside of this is that we got to use Brussels as a base for a couple of nights to break up the 13 hour train journey, and there is plenty to do there. Especially if you like drinking Belgian beer.

'Dam you, 'Dam you all to Hell!

This isn't the place for me to bang on about the (mis)fortunes of my football team. There's enough reporting elsewhere of the shambolic clusterfuck that is Coventry City and the clueless Hedge Fund managers destroying our poor club.

Suffice it to say that when new owners come in to save you from Administration, you don't expect to be in a situation five years later where your squad has been asset-stripped to the barest of bones, you've been relegated to the lowest division you've played in for 50 years, you're in self-imposed exile from your own fucking stadium for not paying the rent for a year, you've alienated the vast majority of your supporters and you've still fucking well ended up in Administration anyway!

Amsterdam, home of window shopping...

What's more, the day-to-day running of the club is now so shockingly bad that no new depths of incompetence can surprise me any more.

We were supposed to be playing Dutch side Go Ahead Eagles on Tuesday, but ironically the game didn't go ahead, and was replaced at the last minute with a fixture in the middle of nowhere, the other side of the German border - completely inaccessible for us fans who had already booked flights and accomodation in Holland.

And so, that's how Mrs B-V and I happened to have a couple of completely unplanned days hanging around Amsterdam this week instead of watching a 6-0 win against non-league German minnows Wachtendonk.

Still, I'd never actually been to the Dam (or indeed anywhere in Holland) before, and was vaguely hopeful of some good beer and interesting food...