St. Bernardus Abt 12
St. Bernardus Brouwerij
Watou, West Flanders, Belgium
By Oiznop
When the news broke that the Trappist monks of the St. Sixtus Abbey of Westvleteren, Belgium sold out of what is believed by many to be the planet’s best beer, and that no plans were being made to keep up with the large world wide demand for it’s #12 ale, it sent shockwaves around the beer drinking world. How could this be? This is the best beer on earth, according to many a beer connoisseur web site. The Westy product line already is a rare catch, and now production will not pick up? This can’t be happening! But it’s true. The Abbot at the brewery was even quoted as saying that “we do not live for our brewery, we brew to afford being monks.”
Never fear fellow consumers of the suds, for even though Westvleteren’s Trappist ales are even more of a tough find, there is good news. (No, I did not save a bunch of money on car insurance by switching to Geico). An abbey alternative that is equally as excellent exists. As a matter of fact, this brew is so good, that many a beer taster has compared it to Westy 12. This is the story of the dark, hearty, and highly alcoholic St. Bernardus Abt 12 of Watou, an abbey ale brewed in a secular setting, but in the Trappist tradition.
The St. Bernardus brewery has past connections with the Trappist monks. At one point in history, this beer was known as St. Sixtus, named for the abbey that brews the now ultra rare Westvleteren ales. It is because of this confusion that some have actually affiliated this abbey ale with actually being an authentic Trappist product, which is not the case. In 1992, the St. Sixtus name was removed from the Bernardus labels after a 1946 license that was granted to the brewery by the Westy monks expired. As for the labels themselves, you have to admit, having a smiling monk holding a chalice full of beer is uniquely eye catching. One would have to be possessed by the devil to turn that down.
The St. B’s brewery itself is a former cheese dairy located at the address that is not so prominently displayed on the St. B labels: Trappistenweg 23, Watou. Along with the Abt 12, there are other abbey ales in the St. B’s product line. The Pater 6, the Prior 8, and the Tripel are all relatively weak by comparison to the 12, but are still very solid and drinkable Belgian brews. A Watou Tripel, a Witbier and a Grottenbier also are a part of the brewery’s offerings.
Abt 12 stands out from the others in the St. Bernardus family. The color is a dark and chocolaty brown with a tan head that starts out very thick and foamy, but only lasts for about 2 minutes leaving a decent ring of lace around the top of the glass. Caramel notes play a role in the flavor and in the aroma with a significant release of gases that are very bold and strong. Slight flavors of licorice and a winy bitterness exist. There is also a high notation of detectable alcohol in the taste, along with light candy sugar, but not to the extent of a Chimay or Affligem. Some burnt citrus (prunes? pears?) notes co-exist with the ale’s roasted malt quality. And, as is usually the case with an abbey brew, there is not a whole lot of hop character involved.
Abt 12 is assertive, powerful, and complex, and is a very heavy dark abbey ale. It checks in at 10% ABV, so as always, drink slowly and savor and have a glass of water on stand by. It is the perfect brew to have with or after a large veal dinner, with desert or with a fine cigar. If you are disappointed over the newfound scarcity of Westy 12, don’t fret. St. B’s Abt is not going anywhere, and is in abundant supply at your favorite establishment serving better beer. It’s too bad the monks at Westy and the St. B’s brewery don’t joint forces. Dare to dream.
To wrap this up, here are a few humorous antidotes about some experiences with St. Bernardus:
One of my closest drinking friends married a woman whose maiden name was Abt.
While waiting in line at a Greek Food Festival, I was opening a bottle of the Abt 12, and the cork just shot/popped right off the bottle and flew into a nearby shrub, nearly hitting the lady in front of me! I was never more mortified in my life!
One of my college buddies and I came to the conclusion that the monk on the label resembled a priest that we knew from our days at Duquesne University.
And one time, while drinking a St. B’s at one of my favorite establishments, a young lady drinking a Coors Light (yeah, I know) asked me, “why are you drinking a beer that has the Pope on the bottle?” God, I love drinking good beer!
