So as we looked out the windows that border the outdoor dining area, we
saw about 20 or so guys get out of two minibuses, vans, whatever and fill up
a corner of the place. Their dress and manner seemed familiar. They were
....Americans! We picked up our glasses and wandered outside to talk to
them.

     I gotta admit it, for being as enthralled as I was with things
European, it was great to meet a bunch of guys from the States, just to
shoot the shit with. They were from Chicago and were in Belgium for the beer
also. It was the second time for most of them. The guy who organized the
trip owns a brewpub in or around Chicago, and every few years he gets as
many of his patrons who are serious enough about beer and have the dough to
afford it, to travel to Belgium and tour breweries. They had made
arrangements to tour the brewing operation at Westmalle (let's hear it -
just east of Oostmalle) months in advance and were not sure, even as they
knocked on the door, if they would be allowed in. They were, however, and
had seen what few men, excluding Cistercians, have ever seen, a Trappist
brewery in action.

     After talking to these fortunate guys for a while, we decided to try
our luck. Sure, we hadn't made arrangements in advance, but what the heck,
hadn't they let a bunch of Americans just walk through. What's three more?
So we went back inside the bar, settled up, got lots of stuff from the
proprietor (bottle openers, pens, and a bottle of Westmalle Extra each),
said goodbye and headed across the road to the abbey. The Extra, by the way,
is a single, brewed for the Trappists themselves as they don't want to drink
something to strong. It's a sin. Naa, I don't know why, they just do.

     We drove of course, we are Americans, and even if it is just a quarter
mile or so to the door, that would take minutes. We parked, knocked on the
door, and were greeted by the monk we had just watched in the movie at the
bar. We recognized him but he didn't know us from Adam, and all our pleading
was to no avail. Arrangements must be made in advance to tour the brewery.
If only we had arrived a little earlier and met the guys from Chi-town, we
could have snuck in with them. Fate, what a cruel mistress. So we walked
around the outside of the place. The grounds were beautiful. A moat blocked
the one side. If you didn't see the parking lot or hear the traffic, the
surroundings could almost slip you back in time to the middle ages. Very
peaceful and rustic.

     We went back to the bar/restaurant and talked to the Chicagoans for a
bit more telling them of our experiences in Belgium and Germany and
listening to theirs. They recommended a few places where we were going and
eventually we left on our way to Meer to visit Sterkens, the maker of the
mighty Kruikenbier.

     We pulled into the Sterkens brewery, deja vu, and this time there was
someone there, in the office. They told us we couldn't see the brewery. Back
in the parking lot, we decided no way were we going to give up. We went back
in the office and with Tony as our spokesman we told them something like
this. "We came all the way from America. We made a special trip to your
brewery not once, but twice, since you were closed yesterday. We are
brewers. You make our favorite beer. Please, please let us in." It worked.
The secretary called upstairs and after a short conversation, led us up to a
room on the second floor with a bar, table and display of the beers they
produce.

     Then in walks Mr. Stan Sterkens, himself. Well not walks, limps
actually. He said he had "brewers disease" (gout?) and his ankle was acting
up that day. He couldn't actually give us a tour but he would be glad to
talk to us and let us sample his products. He was joined by a female
assistant who served us various beers, the Kruikenbier, Poorter, St. Paul,
and St. Sebastiaan. We stayed for over an hour talking about brewing,
various beers, our homebrewing, his operation and generally having a real
good time. He was very gracious, spoke good English and seemed to enjoy
himself as much as we did. He told us of a sideline of his, developing
brewpubs. He supplies the equipment and expertise and starts off anyone with
the financing in their own business. He also produces fruit drinks and asked
us to taste a new product, part apple juice, part beer. Hmmm, interesting.
I'm not a fan of anything replacing valuable beer space in the bottle, but
the Europeans who mix their beer with soda would probably find this stuff
refreshing.

     After a while we thanked our host for his time, said goodbye and left.
Drove up the street to the store we were in before and restocked our supply
of lunchmeat and rolls. Went to the Netherlands to pick up the highway and
drove to our  next stop, Brugge, Bruges, however you want to spell it.
Michel Notredame told us to give Bruges five days, at least, but we don't
have that long.

Next time - Bruges

Pictures - Windy City denizens - The three beerskteers with Stan Sterkens