Ode to Orval

To prepare for last week’s Top Shelf Thursday, I found myself delving into the beer library (as in actual books) & revisiting sections on the Trappists.  While I love the overarching character of the Trappist ales – the sweet, fruity, candy-like tones – that one anomaly always stands out.  Orval is the stick in the spokes of the collective Trappist oeuvre, posing a challenge to ever really comparing all the beers side-by-side.  It’s fascinating to learn about, & just as fascinating to taste.  Sure, Rochefort 10 is my (& many others’) favorite, but that’s just among the more “conventional” offerings.  Orval is in a category of its own, a fantastic & mysterious liquid that defies comparison.

Mysterious?  Maybe mystical is more like it.  The abbey’s origin is itself the stuff of legend: centuries ago, a countess from Tuscany lost a ring to a lake nestled in the valley.  She prayed for the ring’s return, pledging to build an abbey in the valley if the ring was brought back to her.  A trout surfaced from the lake holding the ring in its mouth, & the countess fulfilled her promise by constructing the Abbey of Notre Dame d’Orval.  Even more fabulous, Orval means “Valley of Gold”.  This legend is depicted in the art deco image of the ring-bearing fish on the label & bottle cap (ironically pagan-ish).  The site has withstood its share of ruin over the centuries, after falling victim to a fire in the 13^th century & then ransacked during the French revolution (it was believed Louis XVI was en route to the abbey when he was captured).  Its current, more modern structure was conceived in the 1930s by architect Henri Vaes, who also designed the signature Orval glass.

The liquid has a mystique of its own.  It’s its own style, bordering on the saisons that are also native to Wallonia, the French-speaking southern region of Belgium.  It begins life simply enough, with pilsner & pale malts, continental hops, & a traditional primary fermentation.  Then things get interesting: it’s dry-hopped with German Hallertau, Styrian Goldings, & French Strisselspalt.  It then undergoes a secondary fermentation in the bottle with brettanomyces.  The combination of dry-hopping & wild yeast give it a complex aroma that’s herbal, floral, perfumy.  The brett ferments thoroughly, leaving the finished beer dry & crisp, but with a pillowy effervescence.  The brett character also develops over time; whereas the hops are fresh for the first six months or so, they are eclipsed by the leathery, earthy, even funky or tart character of the yeast.  Side-by-side verticals of different aged Orval are not uncommon; the beer matures & changes in a remarkable way. 

Also remarkable about Orval are the tributes it’s inspired.  It’s proven itself to be one of the most revered beers in the world, & personalities as esteemed as Michael Jackson, Garrett Oliver, & Vinnie Cilurzo have either explicitly or implicitly named it as their favorite beer.  Russian River’s first foray into brettanomyces – Sanctification – is basically an interpretation of Orval, & there are a number of other beers that have been created in similar homage: Green Flash’s Rayon Vert; ToOl & Mikkeller’s collaboration Ov-ral; Tomme Arthur’s collaboration with De Proef, Signature Reserve Ale; New Belgium’s Le Fleur Misseur.  Goose Island christened their tribute “Matilda”, after the countess in the legend.  I can’t think of another single ale that others have so admittedly attempted to “cover”.  Styles?  Sure.  But how many brewers explicitly say “This was brewed after Pliny the Elder”.  In this way, I liken Orval to a jazz classic like “Summertime” (also a personal favorite), redone & reinterpreted in many ways, with subtle & personal variations, but never losing the essence.

I’d be willing to assert that the reverence for Orval has been a driving factor in the recent fascination with brettanomyces & “wild” ales that’s overtaken the craft beer world.  Lambics have contributed to a large part of this as well, but Orval’s brett character is much more pronounced & clear, whereas it’s at least partially obscured by other “bugs” in lambic’s case.  More & more breweries are experimenting with brett – Crooked Stave Artisan Ales ferments all their beers with 100% brettanomyces, an undertaking that’s a little bit mind-blowing.  It doesn’t take too great a logical leap to trace this movement & captivation back to one simple but infinitely complex ale in the south of Belgium.  Guess this kind of turned into another “love letter” post, but I can’t think of a beer more worthy.