Belgian Fever Night

After surviving the 26 beer avalanche that we had put on our collective livers during the storied 500 night, we decided to reign it in a notch when Bim called for a meeting of the brotherhood this week. Doctor Bim texted to all hands that he had a fever, and the only prescription was hosting a Belgian Beer night. The theme chosen was based on celebrating the 28th anniversary of the unprecedented come from behind win posted by his two favorite uncles, Reginald Applebey and Clive Bigsby, in the 400 mile Shinkakasa River to Gulf of Guinea canoe race held every year in the former Belgian Congo. This race is considered the most treacherous canoe race held outside of the continental U.S. (due to the multiple varieties of poisonous spitting tree frogs found along the banks of the river and the dreaded bristle-back jorogumo fly that carries both dengue fever and chlamydia) (Back here in the States, the AuSable Canoe Marathon in Michigan is widely considered the toughest and most challenging test for the modern canoeist). Bim's two uncles (enterprising young lads that had left their jobs as traveling dart board salesmen to form the Beef Swallower Condom Company) happened to be in Africa attempting to setup a steady supply of cheap rubber to ship back to America from the resource rich Congo region. Fruitless in their attempt to sign a contract with the leading suppliers in the area, Reggie took a chance at gaining access to the plentiful rubber by offering a bribe to famed local witchdoctor Joji Komonaneedja. To seal the deal, Reggie offered Joji a rare pair of albino horned viper boots that he had found while on a viagra fueled weekend while on the beach in Barbados with a gorgeous and buxom blonde coed that was nearly half his age. Surprisingly, the rare boots were a hit for Joji, a fearsome man that had never worn anything other than hippo dung on his feet while growing up among the Korowai tribe of central Africa. While celebrating having successfully garnered an almost endless supply of latex for their upcoming line of ribbed (for her pleasure) cock gowns, Clive had ultimately made the disastrous choice of bedding not one but all three of Joji's virgin daughters, all without sheathing his loins. He subsequently found out he was a father to be for all three young ladies so the boys needed a quick method of departing the Congo not only alive but also with their balls intact. Their timing was impeccable, as the annual canoe race down the crocodile infested waters of the Congo River was scheduled to start the next morning and proved to be the perfect escape route. The boys traded two pairs of jeans and an Atari t-shirt to a local boater for his hand carved African teak canoe. The sleek, tung oiled vessel turned out to be surprisingly nimble as the boys bested a field that included the female two time AuSable winning team of Gassie Lassie and Chesty Sparklecheeks to cross the finish line in record time. Knowing they were still being chased by a crazed mob of cannibals, they shunned the post race topless massage party and boarded an aging seaplane for hire that was waiting at a nearby dock. Years later, they still fondly recall that adrenalin charged week even if Reggie still gets the occasional profanity laced collect call from a red haired Rwandan tennis player named "Tommy" that claims to be his son. As we chuckled at Bim's retelling of this family legend, we opened up the first of our 12 pack of Belgian gems, Chimay Ale Grande Reserve (9.0%). This one had a cork top like a bottle of fancypants champagne and it had almost as many bubbles. "A fizzicle" said Snake, as Bim poured a round for the assembled. The first taste wasn't anything to write to home (or to your pen pal in prison for that matter) about, but it got better as we drank more. It wasn't strong for a nine percent beer, but it was solid and so it got a good. Next was a Trappistes Rochefort 6 (7.5%), the third beer we have tried from this excellent monk run brewery. This one was even more carbonated that the Chimay, but it was also in the words of Crazy Ken, "smooth as a bald headed monk's freshly waxed ass". As we recoiled at the visual imagery Ken provided, we all remarked that this was a damn fine beer. Malty, bread like flavor with absolutely no alcoholic backbite, this one left Fred with "a glass full of grape nuts, but this shit is still amazing". This one was very good, so we happily moved on to a Affligem Abbey Blond Ale (6.8%). Wow, what a shitty turn of events this proved to be. The vapors that emanated from this bottle were of a Saharan Desert scorched Corona Light mixed with a shot of man juice. The taste wasn't much better as this Blonde Ale tasted more like a Pilsner or Witbier, and so it rated a sucks. We quickly moved on to a Orval Trappist Ale (6.9%) that was bottled in May 2009 and said was good till May of 2014. "What the Fuck is this, a Twinkie in a bottle" asked Bim, since we still had four years left to enjoy this grenade shaped bottle of monkdom. Opening the bottle produced a ear blistering BOOM that sounded as if a Tomahawk missile had just been launched. Tasting like a weird blend of copper tubing, astroturf floor mats, stale Cheerios and enough carbonation to lift a hot air balloon, this one was another huge disappointment. Maybe we should have let this bottle of sourdough bubblegum age for another few years before we cracked into it but as it tasted now it was a sucks to so-so. Hoping for the best, we then had a Nostradamus Belgian Brown Ale (9.0%). Crazy Ken, who had gotten his undergrad degree from Notre Dame said "Hell, I didn't know they brew beer at Notre Dame". Fred mentioned that it was actually called Nostradamus, after the famous 16th century French apothecary that had actually foreseen the day when we would gather to drink all this shitty Belgian beer in one of his "quatrains", titled "La bière qui goûte comme l'âne" or "The beer that shoots flames from your dingie" according to the resident linguist, Bim. This bottle featured a picture of a bearded, pigtailed Santa Claus like elf that was suck-starting the Stanley Cup while Kazoo from the Flintstones gave him pointers. Undaunted by the European style man-love imagery of the bottle, we were thankfully rewarded with a taste that combined brown sugar, toffee and figs which was a delight for the tongue so it rated a good. Next was Delirium Tremens (8.5%), which came in a white ceramic looking bottle that had an even stranger looking cover. Somehow, the bottle designers decided that dancing pink elephants, butt pirate crocodiles and ladyboy lizards should mingle on the label. An increasingly nauseated Fred asked, "What the fuck is wrong with these fucking fucks? What kind of fanny bandit came up with that stupid fucking label?" Supposedly, this was at one time rated the best beer in the world, but we all thought it tasted like non-descript wheat flavored nonsense, so it rated a so-so. Continuing on what had turned into a gay beer bottle art festival we then tried a Brassiere D'Achouffe Chouffe Houblon Dobbelen IPA Tripel (9.0%). Fred, filling the role of scribe for the evening said, "Damn thats a long fucking name for a beer". The bottle cap was as big as a silver dollar, and even though the smell was that of a fresh bowl of skunk piss, the taste was quite good. "IPA my ass, but this shit is tasty" said Snake as he looked at a bottle that featured one of Snow White's seven dwarfs, only this one was bent over in preparation for his daily prostate exam. Another beer from Brassiere D'Achouffe, La Chouffe (8.0%) was described as a "double fermented Artisanal Belgian Golden Ale" and was "brewed with spice". Bim asked, "do they mean brewed with man spice?" Again, even though the label had that same flamer dwarf as the last bottle, this time getting ready to ass tingle a pitiful looking musk melon, this beer was amazing. "On the high side of good" said Ken as we drank in this apple flavored treat. Our next beer was Maredsous 6 Blonde Ale (6.0%). This is a truly bland beer that had a hint of wheat flavoring along with high carbonation. None of us wanted to drink another one of these, so it got a sucks. Another beer from the folks who gave us a bottle with the pink Dumbo on it, the Delirium Nocturnum (8.5%) was poured next. Fred declared, "its like an asteroid farm in a bottle" as we were all amazed at the huge amount of floaties in the bottle. As we peered into our glasses, Ken said it looked like someone had cleaned their aquarium and poured the results in the bottle, but damn this sure tasted good. "Smooth as a red velvet cake" said Bim, while Snake added "it tasted almost as sweet as a milky way bar fed to me by a naked pole dancer dry humping me". Next up was Westmalle Trappist Ale Tripel (9.5%) which was yet another bottle conditioned beer that gets supposedly gets better with age. This one said best before 2011 and we thought it was decent, so it got a good. Our final beer of the night, St. Bernardus Abt-12 (10.0%) featured a bottle that pictured Captain Steuben from the old 1970s tv show Love Boat. As Fred broke into a charming lounge lizard version of the The Love Boat theme song, Bim poured a round of the beer that was easily the best of the night. "This shit is so tasty it makes me wanna take a swan dive into the pool from the lido deck" said Snake, while Bim looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming pair of mammadons. This highly carbonated bottle of flavor bliss poured a three finger head that vanished almost as soon as it got in the glass, but was very good nonetheless. Damn that disappeared fast said Ken, while Bim said it reminded him of the Swedish au pair that lived next door while he was in high school that "could suck the head off of anything". As we downed our glasses, we finished with a salute to Reginald and Clive for inspiring the BC4M to being our assault on the storied beers of Belgium. In the words of our beer making monk brethren, 'Op uw gezondheid'