Cantillon: Barrels, Cobwebs, and Coolship
In an effort to revive the sense of adventure travel provides, Sara and I decided to resurrect our blog from several years ago. After observing and experiencing years of containment in both our physical space and collective imaginations, we think it’s time to start prioritizing exploration. Our goal with the Elsewhere Adventure Club is to share our experiences with brewmasters, wine makers, and chefs around the world by developing trips based on our own travels through South America and Europe. The first of these trips will be to Argentinian Patagonia in the Spring of 2023 - hopefully! - and will be hosted by a good friend and chef based in San Carlos de Bariloche. For this trip, expect hikes to refugios along the Chilean border, asado dinners in desert caverns along the Limay River, and walks through some of Argentina’s lesser known but domestically prized vineyards. Stay tuned for updates. For now, enjoy a glimpse of Brussels through the dusty, green bottles of Cantillon.
Sam - Atlanta, GA - February 2022
Connoisseurs mention Cantillon in hushed tones, reminiscent of children peering over the banister on Christmas morning. Walking down an unkempt street in southwestern Brussels, sharp morning gusts whipped magazine clippings and dirty napkins upon cresting waves. We turned right, leaving the haggard block behind; one hundred feet beyond the turn, palletized bottles behind the open cargo hull of a delivery truck marked our destination. The recumbent, guzzling jester of Cantillon branded each bottle and hung from a sheet metal punch-out above the door. The place appeared closed; thankfully, the door opened.
The American woman at the front counter registered us for the ten o’clock self-guided tour. We waited fifteen minutes in the tasting room, already filled with visitors. People huddled around a small coal furnace emanating warmly-dim, orange light, while a sweet, musty, aromatic signature left an indelible mark on every surface, living and dead.
Paul Cantillon began his namesake brewery in 1900 along the Senne River in Anderlecht (present day Brussels). The company remains resistant to change. Lambic brewing differs from modern brewing in almost every way possible. The brewer uses three-year old hops in the wort, brewing for four to five hours before cooling and fermentation. Like any other beer, Lambic must cool to a certain temperature before yeast can survive; however, unlike other beer, the wort is pumped to a rooftop pool known as a Coolship where cold nighttime air passing through open slats and shutters reduces the temperature. The requirement for cold air restricts the brewing season to the colder months; we just missed it during our late April visit.
Once the wort’s temperature drops to 100 degrees Fahrenheit, wild yeast carried by the wind settles and begins fermentation. One hundred years ago, Paul Cantillon benefited from wild yeast on the skins of cherries in nearby orchards. Today, those orchards no longer exist, but it is believed that the yeast remains in the walls, barrels, and air inside Cantillon Brewery. Consequently, cleaning cobwebs and dust actually destroys the ideal environment for brewing! Scientists have identified 100 strains of yeast, 27 strains of acetic bacteria, and 38 strains of lactic acid in a single Lambic beer. The complex interaction of these microscopic organisms exemplifies the origins of brewing, where humans worked in conjunction with nature rather than fighting it. This cooperation continues during the next stage of the process: barrel aging.
Inside Cantillon Brewery, barrels filled every available nook. The first barreling room consisted of four rows stacked three high. Fruity, pungent, and leathery aromas hovered among these wooden hallways. Inside the barrel walls, bacteria and yeast continued to inoculate the beer adding to its complexity. Lambic beer traditionally remains in the barrel for up to three years. Employees at Cantillon blend different barrels to achieve certain flavor profiles and to naturally carbonate the beer. Depending on the desired style, the blender will include different proportions of young (one year), medium (two year), and old (three year) Lambic. Oude Geuze is a typical flagship style for any Lambic brewery, combining the young, medium, and old Lambics into a highly effervescent and refreshing beverage reminiscent of champagne. Often fruit is added for flavor, the most famous being cherries in Kriek, raspberries in Framboise, and peaches in Peche.
We finished the tour in the tasting room where we sampled a 14-month old Lambic, an Oude Geuze, and an Oude Kriek. The Kriek was one of my favorite beers in Belgium. Strong farmhouse notes with hints of cherry, oak, and musty lemon composed the bouquet; the palate started softly with fresh cherry tartness and a lingering, creamy sweetness reminiscent of wild strawberries; the finish balanced dry lemon and sweet, creamy cherry notes. Inhaling my cheeks, I squeezed the remaining flavor from my final sip. Out the door and into the wind, we drifted with the jetsam back to our apartment. The wind brought rain that evening as chicken roasted, endives braised, and we sipped a bottle of Cantillon Grand Cru Bruocsella. Aromas of pear, musty lemon, oak, vanilla, and subtle malt sweetness burst from the glass; the palate began with berry notes, matured into tart grapefruit, and finished with oak, vanilla, iron, and subtle maltiness. The bouquet, flavors, and bone-dry finish substantiated Grand Cru Bruocsella’s claim to “the missing link between wine and beer.” Thunder and raindrops gently reverberated against the windows as the deep golden hue in our glasses perfectly filtered my memory of dinner and the day.
