Hemelrijk Beer Bar, Hasselt, Belgium

I went to Belgium on business for 2 weeks.  We stayed in a town in the northeastern corner called Hasselt.  It was a nice town with nice “pedestrianized” streets blocked off from traffic weaving around to and fro throughout the town amongst dozens of shops, interesting restaurants and bars.  I was also lucky enough to have been staying in a hotel near a great beer bar, called Hemelrijk in Hasselt.  A short 5-minute stroll down the meandering cobblestone roads led me to this place.  I found it listed in Wikipedia on a discussion of Belgian beer, and of course found the place was already well-known by colleagues from work, passing on the info via word of mouth from traveler to traveler.  It was one of those places that felt like it was your own personal discovery of the town’s well-kept secret.  But the frequent crowds and large turnover of customers suggested otherwise.

The place had a very cool feel on a quiet, semi-dead end corner with tables sitting outside to allow enjoyment of the outside air while drinking your favorite brew.  Inside was a scattering of various tables in a few different rooms, each room quite interesting and almost historical looking.  The place was impeccably clean.  A fairly large bar made up the main room, with giant bookcases behind the bar with hundreds of different beer glasses.  Apparently in Belgium, you can’t really say you brewed your own beer unless you likewise have your own glassware created for it with a unique shape and your own beer logo on it.  So of course a place like Hemelrijk, with 300 different beers in bottle (oh, and 3 on tap, too), you need a lot of shelves to store all that glassware.  I suppose this is a bit of an exaggeration because there wasn’t a 1:1 ratio of beers to glassware, as some of the beers I tried didn’t have a matching glass, but it was pretty close to 1:1.  I’m sure they loved me as I tried one, then a different one, and then a different one, all the while creating my own pile of dirty glasses for them to wash.  But that’s okay because they got to benefit from my overly-generous American tipping.  This was a combination of bad habits dying hard (used to tipping in the bar), and all this funny-looking money that you can’t exactly tell what you’re giving them.

They had a nicely bound book/menu that sat around on tables and the bar for you to peruse to select your beer.  Each one listed its color, ABV, and a few words about what its main tastes were.  They were also organized into 3 or so major categories, plus a small selection of mass-market stuff (Budweiser, Guinness, etc).  The menu was a challenge that I dove into.  I felt like a WWII code cracker as I would take the beer that I liked, study the Flemmish/Dutch words describing the taste, and try to find another beer listed that used some of those same words.  Some of the names of the beers also helped as they were partially English, or English-sounding anyway.  I found a few that I enjoyed, although most of them didn’t really hit the spot for me.  There’s a specific taste to the Belgian beers, I think it’s the yeast type used combined with the bottle conditioning that leaves that yeast in every bottle.  I know there are some that like that flavor, as much as I love the taste of super-strong hops in American IPAs.  Although none of the beers made me really excited, the experience was great sitting in the place looking at all the glassware, studying a menu I couldn’t read for hours, and playing Belgian Beer Roulette.

Germany- Cologne (home of Kolsch beer), Dusseldorf (home of Alt beer)

In the middle of my 2-week business trip to Belgium, I had a free weekend.  At first I was contemplating seeking out one of the Trappist Monasteries that brewed/sold beer because that seemed pretty cool.  But then I thought about my recent evenings of failed attempts at finding a Belgian beer that I liked/enjoyed.  I imagined myself being at some monastery brewery with a really cool surrounding, but having more of that yeasty-tasting beer.  I couldn’t do it.

Knowing that Cologne was just across the border in Germany about a 1.5 hour drive away, I decided I’d pack up and head east for the weekend.  I’ve been in Cologne several times before, but that was back before I was a committed beer nut.  Since there are a few US craft beer Kolsch’s that I’ve had that I enjoyed, I figured I owed it a fresh look at the home of Kolsch.  Cologne has a nice downtown, with lots of winding streets, cool looking old buildings, tons of cafes and bars, and lots of good squares with tables to sit at and enjoy the surroundings.  The Saturday I was there, it was a really nice sunny summer day so the tables were overflowing with people smiling, laughing, and enjoying the day.

I started off at the Fruh brewery, and got a spot at the bar with a view looking out the open doorwall onto the tables and crowds outside.  The efficiency of these places is downright admirable.  I’m not even sure if they asked if I wanted a beer on the first one, it just sort of magically appeared soon after I sat down.  And once the glass got low, another one would appear.  They’d take the empty, put another tally mark on my coaster and be off.  The glasses at first glance make you think they’re small.  But the 200 ml size turns out to be the perfect size to ensure the beer stays fresh and cool.  Also sized to be deceptive enough to make you think they’re small, so what could one more hurt?  Looking at the picture of this Kolsch, it appears pale and seemingly flavorless.  But in reality it’s actually quite tasty (in my beer review section).

I got out of there in time to avoid getting sucked in to drinking my day away perched on that stool.  I tried to find a place with Reissdorf Kolsch, which I found.  But it wasn’t nearly as satisfying.  Plus they gave me the “visitor sized” glass which was 500 ml.  It almost seemed grotesque.  So large that it didn’t seem as fresh and seemed like it was getting too warm by the end.  I guess you can’t win ‘em all.  But then I was off and up the road to Dusseldorf.

Dusseldorf is a different kind of city than Cologne.  It has a much bigger city feel to it.  I came to Dusseldorf for the beer.  After a week of yeasty Belgian beers, I was missing my American IPAs.  I knew Dusseldorf had its own style of beer, much like Cologne and its Kolsch, so after an internet search said “copper in colour, dry and with a long hoppy finish”, I was sold.  Dry sounded beautiful compared to the yeasty “wetness” I’d been experiencing, and “hoppy” reminded me of all my Michigan IPAs I was missing from home.  It was the best decision I ever made.  The Alt was beautiful- fresh, hoppy, nice healthy head on top, clean tasting, and addictive.  It was in a slightly larger size than the Kolsch in Cologne, something like 250 ml.  But it was similar service and proportional-right-sizedness.  They kept an eye on your glass, and as it got low, magically another glass appeared.  Marks were kept on the coaster again.  The 250 ml went down in the same ~3 minutes as the 200 ml of Kolsch because it was a little bit more delicious (at least to me).

My only bad experience of Dusseldorf was my own fault.  The large, big city feel of the town fooled me into thinking the city was laid out in a grid like Detroit.  Or close enough to a grid that I could roughly do an east-west-north-south thing.  Armed with a micro-map on the sleeve of my room key cardholder (more like an “artists interpretation” of a map), I headed out in the wrong direction.  I was thinking I was heading towards old town, but didn’t quite make it.  Along the way, I saw lots of young people dressed up crazy.  I was trying to figure out what the style was and why it was so prevalent.  Best I could describe it was people were dressed up like characters out of a Japanese anime.  Later, someone told me there was a Japanese Festival going on.  Oh, OK.  As luck would have it, I spotted a place that looked like a brewery across the street.  I pulled up a stool at one of the street-side tables, and in short order one of the brewery staff came out and delivered my first glass of delicious Alt.  After a few more, I felt recharged and ready to try again to find old town.

Further walking and more careful consideration of my artists map, I found my way there.  This part of town was packed with crowds.  The streets were pedestrianized, and pedestrians were making the most of it.  Lots of restaurants with tables outside, and the nice weather for Japan Day brought the crowds out.  I hit the next Alt brewery.  It was packed.  Lots of revelers enjoying the drink.  About every 10 – 15 minutes, there was a glorious  sound of an empty barrel being rolled back to the storeroom and a full one being rolled out.  From there, I walked around the festival (watching people carrying homemade scythes, dressed up like unicorns, and general ridiculousness).  Then down some more streets where I tried a couple different Alts.  By this time, I decided the first place I was at had the best beer, so I figured I’d return there to finish off.  This is where the afore-mentioned lack of north-south-east-west street grid comes into relevance.  I’ll give you the short story.  I got lost, walked 5 miles trying to find the brewery,
ended up at a train station, took a cab back to my hotel to regain my bearings, then finally walked back to the first brewery.  The beer was worth the walk.