What is the point in being a “contributor” to a blog if you never contribute? It is a query akin to many such questions that plague my mentality on occasion: Shouldn’t people pass some kind of test before they are given a license to operate a motor vehicle? How can I be the staff photographer when there really is no staff to speak of and the photos I produce are at least as rare as Bigfoot? Are you a brewer if you don’t brew but have brewed? I don’t know. These questions are for the ponderers to ponder.

I have at this particular juncture, however, managed to have another pint. It is an authentic Trappist product. It says so right on the label. This quaff is a Belgian Ale weighing in at 9.2%. More specifically, it is the Trappistes Rochefort 8, the Green Cap. In 2004 and 2006 this brew took home the Gold Medal from the World Beer Championships. To really get details about this fine import you might visit their website: http://www.trappistes-rochefort.com/. I must warn you, if you are French impaired you will gain little from the visit. Since it originates with Trappists, I did a little web search. According to a well known internet source: A Trappist beer is a beer brewed by or under control of Trappist monks. … Only these seven breweries are authorized to label their beers with the Authentic Trappist Product logo that indicates a compliance to various rules edicted by the International Trappist Association. Right. I am not going to pretend to know anything further about the brewers of my pint. (Saying that, I have probably offended a great many readers and completely alienated those of you out there who really appreciate the art and craft of brewing. My apologies.)

The head was quite ferocious in its arrival. It was an off-white colour with many tiny spheres that dissipated leaving large orbs that collapsed into a film of foam upon the surface of the chocolately hued potation. Although a nice dark brown (very fitting for a Belgian-Style Dark Strong Ale), I swear I could see a tinge of fire red as the light pierced the glass directly. The bouquet did not hint at hops, but had a spicy note that I can’t quite pin down. My first down hit my palate like any good Belgian should, a nice tart mouth awakening pop that spoke of the alcohol it contained. Smooth. As it glided down the gullet the sweet malt flavor took up abiding about the tongue. Skitting between my teeth like a gnome flitting between trees was a fruity presence. There! Did I just get a bit of slight hop flavor? Maybe, maybe not. Give this beer a check mark in the “complex” column. It is spicy, sweet, smooth, medium bodied, mouth awakening, and yet all the while comfortable.

I like it. It is that perfect end to a long day. I feel the heat in my ears. As I sit and try to describe the various qualities I realize that my glass is empty. So is the bottle. I do not regret spending $4.99 for these 11.2 fluid ounces one bit. I did not purchase the “6”. I am an idiot. Perhaps it will be there when I return. I don’t know what the monks do when they are not brewing, but I dare say they should spend less time doing it.