The deep-golden Lambic and the reddish Flemish Brown beers look nothing alike, but they do share several traits. Both originated and continue to be produced almost exclusively in a small, specific region: lambic in the area west of Brussels known as Pajottenland, and Flemish Brown in a stretch of land surrounding Kortrijk in West Flanders. Both beers are aged in oak barrels for months on end, which leaves them both with sour and acidic tastes.
And, finally, both beers have faced difficult times, with decreasing interest and brewers consequently lowering or completely stopping production.
“It may sound astonishing,” says Pierre Zuber, owner of Délices et Caprices beer shop in Brussels, “but when I opened my store 15 years ago, lambic beers were on the verge of disappearing. We dreaded the day they were going to vanish.”
Today, he says, it’s the Flemish Brown ales that are on their way out. “We hope to reignite the passion. We’ve seen this with the Lambic beers; it’s more or less the same thing.”
Brewers of Flemish Brown are looking to share at least one more trait with their lambic brethren: a renewal of interest in both the brewing and drinking community. And while the recovery of Lambic beer does offer a blueprint, Peter Verhaeghe, co-owner of Brouwerij Verhaeghe in Vichte, along with his brother, Karl, need only look to his family lineage for proof of survival.
“Beer is a traditional drink in Belgium, and tradition means not only making it during good years but also during bad,” says Verhaeghe. “In past generations we’ve had two World Wars – not a good time to do business. Our fathers have had problems of their times, and we have our own.”
During the Second World War, the Verhaeghe brewery refused to brew beer for the occupying German soldiers, who responded by tearing apart their brewing kits and using the scraps for weaponry.
But even before invading armies threatened the brewing of beer, Flemish Brown has faced challenges inherent to the brewing process. A “risky beer”, in the words of Zuber, Flemish Brown goes through three separate fermentation stages. The final occurs when the beer is aged for 12 to 18 months in oaken casks.
“Each cask gives its own taste,” Verhaeghe explains. “It’s a question of time but also of trying to obtain consistency. There are many circumstances you can’t control. The nature of the casks, the size of the casks — there are so many elements that make it a difficult beer to control.”
This beer-aging method was developed centuries ago when West Flanders was part of France. Wine makers would use oak barrels to impart acids into the wine that would act as natural preservatives. Hops, the modern-day natural preservatives found in beer, weren’t available in West Flanders at the time, and brewers adopted barrel-aging to ensure a healthy product.
“It’s a very old and historical tradition that has been preserved for many centuries,” Verhaeghe says. Other brewers, he adds, have tried to find shortcuts. “During the last down period, people were making copies of Flemish Brown beers. They were commercially successful but didn’t have the same quality.”
Most notably, brewers skip the barrel-aging process, the key component of a Flemish Brown, and use stainless steel tanks instead. This alternative saves both time and money, and the result is a beer that may look but doesn’t taste like a true Flemish Brown.
That is why not long ago, Flemish Brown brewers founded an association. “We sat down at a table with the other brewers in the region and agreed to following certain rules,” Verhaeghe says. “If somebody wants to brew a Flemish Brown, they have to do it according to those rules to ensure a certain quality. They won’t be able to make a cheap copy.”
The association, formed by breweries Verhaeghe, Bockor (in Belegem), Bavik (in Bavikhove) and Rodenbach (in Roeselare), doesn’t have a formal title – “It’s a complicated name,” Verhaeghe laughs, “so we just call it the association” – but it does have a mission statement: to preserve the tradition and integrity of the Flemish Brown. It defines the rules to be followed to brew traditional Flemish Brown and enforces the regulations on area brewers.
“I think big breweries have their place in the world”, Verhaeghe says, “but we have to be the salt and pepper for these companies. They are the meat. We have to give some flavour to their dishes.” He believes that every region in the world has something special. “We don’t need just one beer or one product to monopolise the market.