The thatched-roof open-air marisquería Doña Lulu is actually quite large for a roadside establishment, with terraces looking out over the surrounding wetlands. We seat ourselves at one of the plastic tables strewn about the space as the good Doctor who has brought us disappears into the bowels of the restaurant apparently to pick out the best fish to meet his tastes and speak with the cook. He has told us that whenever he visits Villahermosa he stays nearby specifically for the extremely fresh and delicately prepared fish that he feels he can’t even get in Mexico City. Out first comes a simple plate of sliced tomatoes and red onions with a number of limes and a bowl of thin salsa – mostly lime juice – with a bit of olive oil, salt, chopped onions and machito peppers. Apparently these only grow in this region of Tabasco, and the Doctor assures us they can’t be found in the States. But I will look. Oh, how I will look. The slow-building but intense heat was sublime, without affecting your stomach the way other peppers like habanero or even serrano can.

I’m still not sure of the type of fish that was prepared. Though robalo was featured prominently on the menu, the Doctor said it was more like huachinango, or red snapper, but that was still not quite right. In any event, prepared under a salt dome in a wood burning oven, the impossibly tender fish pulled easily from the tiny bones once the skin had been peeled back. Excellent by itself or on one of the handmade corn tortillas or chips with some of those tomatoes and onions – and of course a healthy dose of that machito sauce. One might at first think an entire fish of this size – maybe 2.5 pounds – would be too much for a single person, but we each devoured our dishes voraciously, not least because we were on Mexican time – by now a late lunch by American standards.

It was a quick business trip to Villahermosa, mostly confined to the hotel and office buildings, so I was delighted to have been introduced to this little slice of local flavor. We might have lingered a spell longer with our cool, refreshing jamaica, or hibiscus tea, on a day that was already 95° without humidity pushing it to feel more like 110. But with languid ceiling fans only reluctantly moving the air, we decided to head on down the road.

This time, facing forward.

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Three Floyds Brewing Co. is the stuff of legend among beer nerds. Many of their brews are prized offerings, but their Dark Lord Russian Imperial Stout is something else entirely. Available only 1 day a year, at the brewery, after buying a ticket to the festival, flying to Munster, Indiana, where you can get 3 bottles and a Golden Ticket, which is a scratch off for a chance to buy an even rarer barrel-aged variant of the beer. Someday you may get to sip this sweet nectar, but today is not that day. Nor is it likely you’ll try any of 3 Floyds’ lineup in Texas since it’s not distributed here – unless you have a friend in Indiana.

I first tried Arctic Panzer Wolf back in the fall when I was visiting Milwaukee, one of the few places the small and locally distributed brewery reaches. Out on the town, I didn’t really pay attention, but in my solitude it was given proper consideration. A big, 9.5% Double IPA, the real horsepower is in the IBU’s – all 100 of them. Bitter to be sure, it actually comes off syrupy sweet with the grapefruit citrus nose and taste of the hops. So treacly, in fact, I thought it might properly belong in Hay Merchant’s “Sweet and Sticky” section rather than “Hop-a-licious” where the IPA’s normally go. In fact, after you age a DIPA for awhile, like, say, DR11 from Saint Arnold which is over 2 years old now, they almost start to taste like a barleywine. The hops are muted, sweetness takes the fore, while the alcohol is still way up there. That’s the line the Arctic Panzer Wolf treads. But not lightly. This is a dire wolf of a beer. A line of WWII-era German tanks were called Panzers, and this thing rides roughshod over your palate. Arctic, well, it’s in your fridge so it’s cold.

In any event, this DIPA from 3 Floyds provided just the shot of alcohol, punch of hop bitterness, and balanced sweetness  a long, rough day called for. Bring some home if you’re ever traveling through the limited distribution radius up north where it’s available. If a day doesn’t go your way, just sic this beast on it like you were Robb Stark.

Mills of Kinderdijk

Today, Amsterdam is awash in a sea of orange as the Dutch celebrate Queen’s Day as they have for over 100 years. Making this one extraordinary, however, is the abdication of Queen Beatrix and the accession to the throne of Prince Willem-Alexander, who will become the first King of the Netherlands in nearly that same span of time.

In fact, when Willem-Alexander was born in 1967, he was the first male heir born to the House of Orange since 1851 when Prince Alexander was born to King William III.  Alexander and his older brothers, however, all died before the unpopular William, who in his later years had a daughter by a second marriage. Everyone loves a royal baby, so to promote social unity, the first Prinsessedag was held to honor the young Wilhelmina on her birthday in August 1885 and continued until 1890 when William died and she inherited the throne, changing the festival to Koninginnedag, or Queen’s Day. The tradition continued with Wilhelmina’s daughter Juliana, whose birthday was in April, and Juliana’s daughter Beatrix who kept the April date to honor her mother. Plus, the weather is better in April than on her own birthday in January.

Still reeling from World War II, when Beatrix married a German the Dutch people protested the wedding and held demonstrations on subsequent Queen’s Days until officials opened the Amsterdam Centrum to the free market that had historically been held on the fringes and obviated further unrest in the streets. For decades now the festivities have continued with markets in the plazas and revelry along the alleyways and canals of Amsterdam in addition to the two cities the Queen visits every year to mark the occasion. Today, Beatrix abdicates to her son, and the national holiday will become Koningsdag in 2014, or King’s Day, celebrated on Willem-Alexander’s birthday April 27.

How can you celebrate Queen’s Day here in Houston? Well, we don’t have a Dutch pub¹ per se, but you can certainly arrange a plate of bittergarnituur, or pub snacks like Dutch cheeses, sausage, fried croquettes, and the like. The name comes from their traditionally accompanying “bitters,” or alcohol like Dutch jenever, the precursor to traditional London dry gin. I know Down House has a whole section on their spirit menu of Dutch jenevers, both jonge and oude, and I’m sure finer cocktail establishments around town would have some as well. Dutch beers, however, are widely distributed here, with the likes of Heineken, Amstel, and Grolsch readily available in virtually any bar. Conveniently, Tuesdays happen to be Dutch Beer Day at Onion Creek, when Heineken and Amstel are just $2. Some people don’t care for these Dutch beers though, finding them a bit skunky, many blaming the green glass of the bottles. While I can attest that a Heinie does indeed taste better on draft at a bar in Rotterdam, for example, here they still make a respectable toast to the Queen. Or, if you’re lucky, you have a stash of Dutch craft beer like Brouwerij de Molen. Sorry, I don’t have enough to go around.

Whatever you do, get out there, don your finest orange threads, and say Proost! for Queen’s Day and to the health of the King. But enjoy King’s Day while you can: Willem-Alexander has three daughters.

¹Trust me, the Dutchman over by Petrol Station doesn’t count.

With much built-up enthusiasm, there was a prodigious line from the get-go, spilling out along Dallas St from noon onwards. This was essentially the beer line too, since upon paying $8 for admittance, tasting glass, and 3 tokens, patrons transitioned from the front of the entry line to the back of the queue winding through around the perimeter of the space back to the taps. A testament to the number of fans the Wonder Boys have, I’m sure the capacity crowd will grow more manageable in coming weeks. The brewery is outfitted with shiny steel tanks, as well as a number of picnic tables and couch/cable spool arrangements where drinkers were playing cards and enjoying their lunch. At the taps were Hopston, a hoppy IPA; IntellectuAle, an easy-drinking Belgian Wit; and Alternate Universe, a more robust brown ale. You’ve likely seen these 3 offerings at better beer establishments around town, and perhaps even some of their experimental brews like the incredible Vietnamese coffee porter called Rocket Fuel. I stuck with the Hopston, a bright but not overly bitter IPA, as I perambulated the property, watching the clouds gather as the afternoon wore on, portending a storm the likes of which even the weather guys didn’t anticipate.

By 5:00 pm, when the Spring Fair at Buffalo Bayou Brewing was set to begin, a light rain was still falling but the worst of it had largely passed, providing respite to an inundated Houston. I had previously been to Buffbrew’s 1st anniversary party, but Rassul Zarinfar and the gang really pulled out all the stops for this vernal extravaganza featuring all sorts of carnival games, two food trucks, a live band, and array of new and specialty beers. The rain put a damper on some of the games, but others were still going strong since you’re obviously not going to get any wetter in a dunking booth. Inside, I couldn’t resist joining 5 other competitors in the Polar Bear Club (encouraged, rather than stymied, by my girlfriend – she’s a keeper!) – which meant spending 30 minutes in cold storage (37°) in naught but our skivvies. Pro tip: the bare cement floor is the worst part. All 6 of us made it through to the end, aided in no small part by our gracious host’s tapping of some of the last of the whiskey barrel-aged Gingerbread Stout and its warming 10% ABV. I’d have forfeited a toe to frostbite and still considered the endeavor worth it for this beer.

Other beers on offer for the festivities included the brewery’s symphonic variations on a theme, various aged versions of the flagship 1836 copper ale like maple or cedar, as well as a number of the Secessionist series, like the Hibiscus Wit and the More Cowbell Double IPA. What I was most excited about, however, was the special one-off Meer Koebel, a Belgian version of Cowbell. To my mind, Belgian yeast does a good job of tempering the bitterness of IPA which is unpalatable to some drinkers, and this is no exception. The Belgian yeast plays well with the East Kent Golding and Hallertau hops used in the brew for a smooth, continental European rendition of an American-style DIPA, masking 90 IBU. Meer Koebel (which I’m saying with approximate Dutch pronunciation as “Mare Koobel”) was a revelation, and something I hope will see a full production run and become widely available.

Look out for future 8th Wonder tours and Buffalo Bayou events. It’s an exciting time for Houston beer, and Saturday was emblematic of the recent growth the local industry has enjoyed.

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I caught up with Flip ‘n Patties while biking through the Heights on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. They were parked on 19th St in front of Boomtown Coffee, which was bustling in its own right despite it not even being the first Saturday of the month. The line at the food truck moved briskly though, and while I was at first tempted by the stuffed buns called Siopao (sho-pow), I was ultimately won over by the Filipino/Mexican fusion version they call Flipanadas. Crispy fried yet somehow subtly soft and sweet dough housed a blend of ground beef, vegetables, and a bit of egg that made an excellent little appetizer for the burger that followed, though you should probably split the order of 2 with a friend if you want to have room for everything.

Though it was well into lunch time, it was still my first meal of the day, and when that happens I like to include at least a token element of breakfast with my midday repast. I needed look no further than the Brekpas Burger, a grass-fed beef patty on a soft steamed bun with grilled onions, a bit of griddled spam, and a runny fried egg. The spam often adds nice punch of saltiness to Southeast Asian cuisine, like in the spam musubi from the Phamily Bites truck, and the savory onions and rich egg ran together with the juicy burger which had my eyes flippin’ to the back of my head. The twice-cooked fries were the perfect accompaniment, crispy on the outside, potatoey on the inside, but by this time I was stuffed to the gills.

There’s still plenty for me to try on their expansive menu, like their Flip ‘n Fries, basically allowing you to combine a burger and fries into one efficient order. Follow them on Twitter or Facebook to see where they’re posted up, and I’ll catch you on the flip!

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After meandering through an array of booths and dodging errant children, we made our way toward the VIP lounge and the Bud Light main stage. Now might be the time to voice a minor gripe, as suggested by that stage name. As long as we’re promoting the world’s connection to Houston, why can’t we also promote Houston’s connection to the world by showcasing our local craft beer alongside our local artists and artisans? With the onslaught of craft beer against the big beer empire, the latter’s strategy seems to be locking down festivals and foisting their swill upon a captive audience at $7 a pop. But at least those dollars are helping put on a really quite spectacular festival.

Much like the Fancy Pants tickets at #FPSF, the VIP tickets really can’t be recommended highly enough if personal space and ease of access are things you cherish. The lawn seats provided by IKEA were mere feet from the stage where we hunkered down and first caught the Malian musician Fatoumata Diawara. She put on an inspiring set with her multinational band hailing from France, Togo, and Cameroon, pleading the case for peace in the world and especially in Africa. This següed somewhat disjointedly but somehow appropriately into the “polyethnic Cajun slam-grass” stylings of Leftover Salmon. The noted jam band is known to cross boundaries between zydeco, rock, and bluegrass which seemed to encapsulate on a microcosmic level the larger universal embrace of the festival as a whole. And this was all leading up to the euphoric performance by the Wailers, still anchored by Aston “Family Man” Barrett but now led by vocalist Koolant Brown. The crowd was set adrift on an undulating sea of much needed rasta positivity after a week which, by all available metrics, registered as one of the shittiest in recent memory. The audience was swaying together and encouraged by Brown to sing along with one love all the way through an encore which started off with an acoustic “Redemption Song” introduced by a nearly a capella “Time Will Tell” and sent everyone packing with “Exodus.”

It was a truly memorable and heart-warming day of music in which we barely scratched the surface of all the iFest has to offer. The final weekend features performances capped off with Los Lobos and Aaron Neville, so if you’ve found your faith in humanity shaken recently, head downtown and buttress it up with the multicultural vitality of the Houston International Festival.

Oh, and grab some of those Spanish-style ribs from the Batanga booth. You’re welcome.

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The ticket price gained you admission to the event, along with a pint glass and samples of 5 High Fidelity beers and 1 collaboration between them and another Brewery Incubator project, Spiller Artisan Ales. There were also light bites infused with High Fidelity brews like chicken and waffles with beer syrup and coconut stout chocolate cupcakes, all prepared by brewer Carl Norberg’s wife Lisa. The beer flowing from the taps included the Ginger Kid, a Belgian Wheat brewed with ginger and citrus, Hop Scotch, a hoppy version of a pale Scotch Ale, and Conspirator, a German-style Doppelbock. But perhaps my two favorites of the night were the Imperial Black IPA that I kept going back to, and the London ESB, a style that I often stick with over the course of a night but will really catch up to you if you’re not paying attention (see: Real Ale Phoenixx). There were also both versions of a Gose collaboration between High Fidelity and Spiller Artisan Ales, a tart wheat style brewed with coriander. Unfortunately, I was unable to try the cold-fermented Spiller version before it blew, but the High Fidelity version was crisp and refreshing with a welcome yet restrained sour bite.

Coupled with the delight-bites, good music, and a sizable crowd of amiable beer enthusiasts, I think the night was a great success. It seemed like I was among the first to check-in to the High Fidelity offerings on the Untappd platform, but I wish all the best to Carl Norberg with High Fidelity and Lucrece Borrego and the entire Kitchen/Brewery Incubator project, and I look forward to lots of future High Fidelity check-ins. But if you come around looking for some insipid adjunct lager – get your PATCHOULI STINK OUTTA MY STORE!

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Bourdain visited during a layover. Google anything related to craft beer in the Dutch capital and In de Wildeman will invariably be listed. The Flying Dog Brewery in Maryland even saw fit to brew a special In de Wildeman Farmhouse IPA to toast the pub on its 25th anniversary, which is now brewed year-round as simply Wildeman Farmhouse IPA. Basically, this bierproeflokaal in a little medieval alleyway is perhaps the first destination for any craft beer enthusiast in Amsterdam.

Having first visited the Hermitage Museum and getting our fill of Van Gogh to keep our activities properly balanced between intellectually stimulating and debilitating, the bitter March cold had us seeking refuge not far from the Centraal Station we had just exited. Warm restaurants, coffee houses, and pubs flying the Heineken flag lined the narrow, cobble-stoned streets, but we were headed for Kolksteeg with singular purpose. There, a sign bearing the club-wielding caveman hung from a building dating back to the 17th century, beckoning to us with the promise of sanctuary within.

Quite a few languages were spoken in the room packed with patrons who had obviously had the same idea. We hovered about for a few minutes before snagging a tiny table by the door that nevertheless met our spartan needs of supporting two beers and some bittergarnituur, the savory snacks served at bars and restaurants, in our case creamy Dutch cheese with spicy mustard and some wasabi peanuts. Singes the nostrils. In any event, somewhat bewildered by the vast menu of hundreds of available bottles, primarily Dutch and Belgian, I started with a local IPA, Tasty Lady from the Brouwerij de Eem, notable for being brewed exclusively by women, as recommended by our helpful bartender. It didn’t have quite the hop punch I was anticipating, more along the lines of a pale ale, but I was confident the Brouwerij de Molen would pull through for me, so I next went with their Vuur & Vlam (Fire & Flame), an American-style IPA with a lovely aroma that was exactly what I was looking for and paired nicely with the spicy comestibles.

Just like getting out of bed on a cold winter morning, it was tough to roust ourselves from the pub’s warm atmosphere and friendly staff. As we thought about settling up, I spied on the wall a list of sours, lambics, and geuzes from revered breweries like Cantillon. We ended up splitting one of those white whales, the Oude Geuze from Drie Fonteinen, one of the finest examples of the style, a dry, intense sour with some mild fruitiness. Our bartender had just gotten off her shift, and cheerfully sat down with us and took the time to make notes on our map of all the places we needed to visit, an insider’s guide to Amsterdam. That’s one thing about the Dutch, they’re eager to show off the country and cities they’re so proud of, and rightfully so. We bundled up and headed out into the night, glad to have stopped by the Wildeman, but looking forward to the next adventure.

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Walking the cramped streets of a city like Amsterdam is an apt microcosmic metaphor for the tightly packed European geography, especially those countries bordering the North Sea. Citizens grow up speaking the languages of their neighbors: Dutch, French, German, English, and many dialects in between. Though Belgium and Germany get most of the brewing attention, bordering countries share that proud heritage too. And while the craft beer market booms stateside and American brewers push the style envelope ever further, their European counterparts hew closer to the traditional styles they’ve perfected over centuries. But a few rogue breweries like Denmark’s Mikkeller have come up with wildly inventive offerings, and the Dutch Brouwerij de Molen, located about halfway between the Hague and Utrecht in Bodegraven, has been able to deftly execute all of the above and become one of the best breweries in the world according to review sites like RateBeer.com.

In the verdant central region of the Netherlands called the Groene Hart, the town of Bodegraven is home to the historic windmill known as de Arkduif where the Brouwerij de Molen (the Mill) is located. Though capacity was recently greatly expanded through the acquisition of a new facility not far away, some brewing is still carried out at the mill, where guided tours are given and patrons can visit the small restaurant and impressive bottle shop. My first taste of a de Molen brew, often named in word pairs, was actually at an English-style pub in the Hague called the Fiddler. I ordered the Hel & Verdoemenis (Hell & Damnation), a rich, boozy Russian Imperial Stout at 10% ABV with an opaque black body and a thick, toffee colored head that laced the glass with its foamy doilies. Already one of their best beers, a robust stout like this nevertheless has the shoulders to bear some aging, and de Molen ages several of its brews on the likes of Oak, Bruichladdich, and Wild Turkey barrels.

I next tried the Hip & Hop, an American-style Black/Cascadian IPA, in the restaurant at the brewery itself. I always think of these as stylistically a sort of Jekyll & Hyde beer, exhibiting both dark, roasted malts and the vegetal, citrusy nose of American hop bitterness. This was an excellent example, and paired wonderfully with my “Miller’s Lunch”, a hearty midday repast – lest we forget the other half of this Eet & Bierlokaal, which we might simply translate as a brewpub. The menu prominently featured the sort of local, artisanal fare you would expect from the Dutch green belt, particularly the cheeses. My molenaarslunch featured a beef croquette with beer mustard, a slice of bread topped with cured ham and a fried egg, an assortment of cheeses, and a small green salad. Beautifully served on a platter, everything benefited from a simple preparation that belied the higher order combination of flavors from the soft, aromatic Doruvael cheese to the piquant mustard to the rich local egg. My irresponsible inner glutton of course preferred the kroket, or crispy croquette of beef ragout that essentially tasted like fried mashed potatoes and gravy. Indulgent bliss. In fact, the smaller, spherical cousins of croquettes known as bitterballen quickly became one of my all-time favorite pub snacks, and may well become the subject of a separate post entirely. Topping off this toothsome tiffin, I tried the Bloed, Zweet & Tranen (Blood, Sweat & Tears), a German-style Schwarzbier using both smoked German malts and peat-smoked English malts, and further given a Bruichladdich whiskey barrel-aging treatment, augmenting that earthy smokiness.

Wrapping up lunch, I ventured into the wonderland of a bottle shop at the rear of the space. De Molen is known for trying new things, often in small production runs, so their list of offerings is a prodigious one. They have nearly all of their own bottles lining the shelves, but they also have bottles, and rare ones at that, from breweries around the world whom they either admire or have done collaborations with. Norwegian, Danish, English, German, Belgian… and American. In fact, Austin’s own Jester King Brewery was in Bodegraven just last year for de Molen’s Borefts Beer Festival – now in its fifth year – where they first tapped their Gotlandsdricka ancient Viking ale. There were bottles from across the US that we can’t even get in Texas, from the Bruery to Southern Tier¹. I was focused more on European beers though, and was ecstatic to find a lone Pannepot (2011), a Belgian Quad from De Struise Brouwers, one of the most highly regarded beers in the world. But it was an elation soon topped when the owner, who saw my excitement at getting the last Pannepot, pointed me to several cases of Westvleteren XII. Yes, cases. Wooden crates to be exact. The Westy 12 as it’s affectionately known, is an extremely rare Belgian Quad, ranked #5 in the world on BeerAdvocate, #1 among Belgian beers. The Saint Sixtus abbey brews only three beers, enough to finance their monastery and philanthropy, and sells them weekly from their very doors with no advertising whatsoever. You may remember a minor tempest in a tankard last year when 6-packs of Westvleteren XII went on sale in the US at $85 apiece in order to finance renovations at the monastery. Beer nerds everywhere frantically tried to get their hands on this Holy Grail of Trappist ales. In any event, we squirreled away a couple Westies, the Pannepot, and a number of de Molen’s excellent beers in our suitcases for the trip home.

Easily among my favorite beers of the trip, the Brouwerij de Molen may well be among my favorite in the world, standing at the crossroads of old-world tradition and new-world experimentation. You can’t have your beer and drink it too, but for now I’m jealously guarding my de Molen beers, perhaps saving them for Queen’s Day on April 30, when Prince Willem-Alexander will inherit the throne from Beatrix as the first King of the Netherlands in over a hundred years. After that, well, guess I’ll just have to shoot back over to Bodegraven to pick up some more, or cross my fingers that my girlfriend’s accommodating parents bring some over when they visit for the holidays. Until then, Proost!

¹Actually, Southern Tier is now available in Texas as of yesterday!

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To accommodate the prodigious Saturday crowds, the brewery is open from noon to 8 pm, with tours on the hours from 1 to 5 where you’ll get some of the above history and a brief look at the brewing process. We arrived shortly after 12 and were able to grab a beer from the manageable line at the service counter. Returning after the 1:00 tour however, the numbers had swelled considerably- likely spilling over from the St. Patrick’s Day parade – and the line stretched nearly the length of the space. The early bird gets the worm at most breweries, but the sprightly staff and beer token system kept things moving briskly. The first endeavor expansion has afforded the brewery is a new spicy saison called Radius. Available only in Brooklyn, I was excited to try this alongside several of their more familiar offerings. At a sessionable 4.8%, Radius is dry and champagne-like but it had enough citrusy Belgian yeast and hop bitterness to spur some warmth on a chilly afternoon that actually brought snow by the time we left. Given the weekend’s festivities, I had to get a pour from their cask of Dry Irish Stout, and the brewery also sells large-format bottles behind the counter (imagine that, Texas!), so I was able to stuff a BAMBoozle in my suitcase, a honeyed Belgian brewed to celebrate and benefit the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) on their 150th anniversary.

After having tried 17 of Brooklyn’s offerings (by Untappd count) and getting my copy of the Oxford Companion to Beer signed by Garrett Oliver here in Houston, I was glad to get a chance to stop by the brewery. As the craft beer market continues to swell, I look forward to what the newly expanded Brooklyn Brewery brings to the table.

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