Tag Archives: Barbar

#226 – Floris Honey

#226 - Floris Honey

Size: 330 ml

ABV: 3 %

I haven’t thus far had the most positive experiences with honey beers. The Barbar (#19) was remarkably average and didn’t even taste of honey, and the Le Pave de l’Ours (#117) was more akin to bears piss than anything else. Despite being a pretty naff excuse for a beer, at least the Floris Honey did actually taste of honey.

There are generally two ways in which honey can be added to a beer, and a simple comparison of the Barbar to the Floris Honey may well explain the taste phenomenon. The Barbar method, and the one which I have slightly more respect for, is to add the honey during the kettle boil. This process usually means that the honey will become part of the original gravity of the wort. As the honey tends to be a single sugar profile, then it will tend to ferment out completely and any sweetness may only remain aromatic. Brewers can attract widely varying flavours at this stage by trying different types of honey. Wildflower strains of honey tend to ensure a floral streak, whereas Buckwheat strains lead to a more roasted flavour. This likely though will be at the expense of the sweetness of the honey which is particularly true of the Barbar.

The Huyghe brewers of the Floris Honey however unashamedly add the honey post-fermentation, and so it doesn’t have the opportunity to lose its flavour and of course is added in such amounts that it will likely disguise the lack of flavour of a low strength wheat beer – a low strength wheat beer brewed with the sole intention of being butchered with flavourings. I have no idea what Silenrieux did with the Le Pave de l’Ours, but it may well have been a result of somebody leaving the door open at night!

Unlike the Le Pave de l’Ours, at least the Floris Honey is at least reasonably pleasant. I had popped into the Dovetail pub (#119) for a quick lunchtime beer, ahead of a reasonably important external meeting, and so anything too meaty could render me asleep by the first tea-break. The barmaid filled up a cloudy pale tumbler which had a wonderfully thick bubbly head. I was thirsty and it didn’t take too long to polish off half the glass. I can’t really say much more than it tasted of honey and was particularly refreshing. It wasn’t going to win any prizes but I knew what I expected when I ordered it.

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Filed under 6, Belgian White (Witbier), Huyghe

#48 – Barbar Winter Bok

#48 - Barbar Winter Bok

Size: 330 ml

ABV: 8 %

This was the last chance for a Barbar beer to redeem itself in my eyes – the darker version which is marketed as a brown ale that also contains 2.5% honey. The label suggests that the warrior needs to rest in winter as well, and that Lefebvre has produced a beer available in the dark months from October to February. How thoughtful of them!

At least this gives us an insight into the naming of the beer, and it is clear that Barbar refers to the warrior, or the barbarian. The general definition of a barbarian is that of an uncivilised person or a cruel savage person with a penchance for warmongering. Whatever the final definition it would seem the etymology originally came from the Greek for ‘not-Greek’, and the structure of ‘bar-bar’ as an onomatopoeic representation of a language not clearly understood ie ‘blah blah’, may hint at how the saying “well, its all Greek to me?” came about.

The label clearly defines Lefebvre’s view of what a barbarian warrior might look like, but it is fair to look back in the history of the Middle Ages and associate beer with what could loosely be termed as barbarians. Once wine became imported from the Mediterranean, beer took something of a back seat, as a cheap and readily available drink. This is no different probably now if one considers the comparison between a wine bar/bistro and a pub. I would argue that Belgian beers are definitely bridging the gap for those that want something just that little bit classier or tastier, although I would suggest that Barbar Winter Bok isn’t there yet.

This was the latter beer to celebrate the start of my prolonged period of annual leave . Relaxation of this nature however deserved a better beer. The final Barbar for me, and really can’t see what all the fuss is about. The pour promised much with an ebony gush and a thickset head that looked too good to be true. There were certainly deep and dark flavours in this beer, and it was better than the honey blonde (#19), but it just lacked authenticity – being largely synthetic in its genetics. I could have scored it higher but felt let down by Lefebvre on the brand. There are plenty of dark beers around with plenty more bite than this. More Librarian than Barbarian !

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Filed under 6, Dunkler Bock, Lefebvre

#19 – Barbar Belgian Honey Ale

# 19 - Barbar

Size: 330 ml

ABV: 8 %

This beer was probably the first Belgian beer I ever drunk back in 2000, when I was travelling through the lowlands while supporting England during the European Football Championships. I was actually driving at the time, and felt safe having a quick half. I wondered why I was half cut getting back in the car, and it was then I learnt that Belgian beer is not to be messed with.

I think the main reason I chose it back then on that warm summers day was that it said on the menu that it contained honey. I had a sweet tooth so it made perfect sense. How wrong I was. If you consider that beer dates back to the Egyptians and Sumerians (#1), then honey beer is quite simply Neolithic. Essentially ‘mead’ – as it translates from the term honey in many languages – is fermented honey and water, and was actually discovered by accident. During the harvests of the Middle Ages, honey was raided from beehives and preserved for its properties as a sweetener and other uses, in large vats of boiling water. Once the liquid cooled, and the slabs of honey removed, a sweet mixture remained that had naturally fermented with the yeasts in the air. This became the drink of the workers, and after a long hard day, men would dunk their cups in the vats and drink and be merry. Of course, honey was more expensive than naturally grown cereals, and so mead eventually declined in popularity, but its place in the history of beer is clearly evident and is now often drunk on special occasions.

Barbar disappointed me intensely. He barely smelled of anything on popping and there was little or no carbonation. I kept waiting for the taste of honey, that really just didn’t come. Barbar was smooth and the strength was well-hidden, but that was really just it. Next time – show me the honey !

(Post-Script) – I had hoped that the Barbar Winter Bok (#48) might have redeemed the Honey Ale, but alas it also fell short!

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Filed under 6, Belgian Strong Ale, Lefebvre