Around Town ~ Lyon

People we know were coming to France.

It was time to book our train and hotel, even as (for us) the TGV employees had gone out on strike and (for our friends) the US has raised it's terrorism threat level to chartreuse (or some related ugly color) and were being Extra Careful performing their searches of Everyone and Everything.


We were off to Lyon!

Our first French language classes back in the States were at the Alliance Francaise.  We met M. Guillaume (not his real name, we have to protect the innocent as well as the guilty, right?) and his wife there.  They were to be in Spain for a work related conference and were renting a burro to explore southern France for a week or two after work.

This was our first time in Lyon and had no idea what to expect.  So we fired up the DVD player and enabled it's connection to the "internets" to see a few BBC broadcast documentaries on the third largest town in France.  With a few episodes of "Barging Through France" and a couple other things under our belt, we were as prepared as we ever would be to take our invasion south.  There are things we know.  Things we don't know.  And then there are the things we don't know that we don't know.  Or so said some brilliant military strategist.


The first thing I noticed is how much like southern California it felt.  Lyon is warm, sultry, edging on dirty, and everything moves at a slower pace than points north (ie: Paris or Seattle - it didn't matter, the effect is the same).

One of the things we learned from Richard Goodwin is that someone named Paul Bocuse is God in those parts of the world.  We hear he had more than a little to do with something called Nouvelle Cuisine.  We also learned from RG that Lyon is lousy with les petits endoits called bouchon.  The food is by many accounts superior to what Parisian waiters slap down on a restaurant table.


In similar time I've been in the midst of a very serious reading of the Asterix series of graphic novels.  Wherein I learned rather important things.  Such as the historic importance of sanglier.  As was uttered in the movie Babe, pork is a nice sweet meat.  If there is anything on the planet tastier than European porc (wild or human raised), I've yet to find it.

Shortly after checking into our hotel room Guillaume and his wife checked into theirs.  It was good to see them after two years.  They had been one of our first visitors back when we lived for a short time near the Trocadero.  Their sons are well informed, well schooled, and talented in science and business.  We shared a bit of wine, food, and lots of conversation then.  This time without their boys it was just the four of us.


Wanting to avoid what we call "fussy food", we called down to the front desk to ask for reservations for a bouchon just around the corner.  Looking at the definition of bouchon one sees it's primary meanings include cork, stopper, cap, and fisherman's bobber.  Given these possibilities of translations we weren't quite sure what to expect.

Daniel et Denise is a friendly, welcoming place where the servers seem to enjoy practicing their English.  The food was decidedly not "fussy".  In fact, it's down right "homey."  I'm sure that had my mother been French instead of Austro-Hungarian that this is the kind of food she would have served.  Rich.  Simple.  Direct.  Wonderful to eat.  No knife is needed to get at the Good Parts of an amazing lamb roast.  In fact, no knifes are given.  Simply dechirer, dip in the sauce, and eat.  Even better when floated down-stream with a bottle or two of Cotes de Rhone.

Burp.  Bouchon, eh?  What were those translations again?


When the morning sun had taken over the last nights sky we headed up the hill to see what could be seen.  My wife must be part cat as she likes high places to watch things from.  What a view it was.  It reminded us of the kinds of views you have in Florence.  Red tile roofs and old building as far as the old city limits allowed.  With modern buildings beyond.

We spend a nice day visiting a Roman site that was recently uncovered.  We wandered an amazing basilica that's plopped squarely on top of the hill.  We negociated a steep walk down the hill, across the old town, and back to our hotel on the other side of the two rivers.  We were hungry.

Our Front Desk had to know we'd bug them a second time.  S'il vous plait, could you call for reservations for four at Les Federations, say, oh, around 20h00?  Merci.  This was to be our second bouchon in two nights.


Les Federations is smaller, tighter, and seedier than D&D's.  You need to ask questions about what's really on the menu.  Otherwise you end up with porc entrails stuffed into a sausage.  Avoiding that might be a trick.  Make sure your ears are well tuned to the word andoillette.  Other than that, the boudon noir is amazing, chicken in vinaigre nice, and the porc cheeks succulent.  Yes, rivers of Cotes de Rhone help float everything nicely down the gullet.

Ack!  I failed to mention all the Meaty, Corchony, Cheesy, Lardy Goodness that are put on the table to "assist" the flavors of the event.  Ask if you don't know what something is.  Even then you might not know, but you'll have words to look up later, if nothing else.  This will come in hand particularly during the Cheese Course.  Or just look up tue mouche before you dive in.  You'll be better prepared heading into battle.


Burp.  Burp.  Ah, bouchon... yes... something's coming to mind... swirling thoughts... stopper... cap... um...

M. Guillaume had driven us into the old town for dinner and was amazed to find a "great parking spot."  After a stroll through the streets, spying the scene of a waxing moon over the hill-top basilica, and standing slack-jawed at a well-lit church just around the corner, we came to learn the true nature of our "great parking spot."  Oh, the Lyonaise are a patient lot.  They'd have to be.  Without knowing it, our burro was parked right across the entry to a small parking lot.  There was no getting in or out of the lot.  We'd very successfully bouchon'd those cars into place.

We all agreed that M. Guillaume just spent his "Get Out Of Jail Free" card.


Our Last Supper found us returned to Daniel et Denise.  It was close and easy.  We knew there were more places to visit, but we were tired and all on the verge of coming down with something related to Overseas Travel Whilst Eating Rich Food Like Momma SHOULD Have Made.  We'd go lighter on the fare this time around at D&Ds.  So we called a third time down to the front desk.  Patient folk those Lyonaise are.

With Asterix-like pride I considered my Current Position.  So far it had been Lamb, Porc (during a lunch I fail to chronicle here) and Sanglier.  Why not round out the Tour with a wee-bit-o-Porcelet?  Why not, indeed.  Amazing stuff, properly prepared porcelet.  Floated down stream by a small creek of Cote de Rhone, of course.  Bouchon'ing the evening off this time with a Chartreuse digestif.

Burp.  Burp.  Burp.  I am completely and utterly bouchon'd.

There is too too much to try and cover here.  Yes.  I am thoroughly impressed by what the Romans accomplished.  Unlike modern times where America's Army occupies a country for a short time only to leave it a few years later in tatters and ruins, Roman ruins took thousands of years to develop.  In the mean time they ruled the Great Unwashed from fabulous buildings, created some amazing art, governed from Books of Law that spanned hundreds of years of successful application, and set the foundations for what now comprises much of Western Civilization.  But this is a story for another time.  Suffice it to suggest just how impressed I am.  Further research is required.


Our Day To Leave Lyon was a bit of a thrash.  Jude had left her purse somewhere the night before.  It was very likely bouchon'd between seat cushions or bouchon'd into a dark corner somewhere at the bouchon.  A call to the Front Deck confirmed they had un-bouchon'd her purse in their lobby seats the night before.  Promptly delivered, peace returned to our Fine Empire.  Whew!  That'd been a close call.

Jude had just spent her "Get Out Of Jail Free" card.

It was time to un-bouchon ourselves out of Lyon.  M. Guillaume and his wife pointed the burro back to Spain.  We took the T1 tramway to Part-Dieux, and jumped our 5 minutes en retard, mon dieu!!! TGV back to Paris.

What an adventure this had been.  So... where next...?  Any suggestions... anyone...?

Yet another post on the costs vs quality of US healthcare...

I've often said that the costs of medical care drove us out of the US to resettle and live in Europe.

It doesn't take long for a person interested in such topics to find the relevant supporting data.  Here is a post from today on ZeroHedge.  Cutting to the chase:

"...a recent study by the Commonweath Fund, looking at how the US healthcare system compares internationally, finds, "the U.S. fails to achieve better health outcomes than the other countries, and as shown in the earlier editions, the U.S. is last or near last on dimensions of access, efficiency, and equity." In other words: most expensive, yet worst in the developed world..."

For what we were paying in monthly insurance premiums in the US we can rent an apartement somewhere outside the city of Paris AND pay our European insurance premiums.

What more needs be said?

... and on the 6th of June...

It seems to me that the Meaning of Things here in Europe can be measured very differently than in the USA.  We're currently experiencing one of these moments when differences become obvious.



Years ago when Jude and I first came to Paris together, the map seller at the north entrance to Pere Lachaise cemetery smiled and warmly greeted us in excellent English when he learned we came from America.

In the hallway outside our apartment last week a normally rather reserved Frenchman reached over and squeezed my shoulder while he said "... thanks to our American friends..."

On Tuesday in our conversation group someone asked what we were doing on the 6th of June.  I mumbled something about "nothing special, why?"

Last night Jude and I watched part 7 of one of the BBC Farm series episodes and were struck by how deeply etched memories of the past remain.

This morning as Jude and I watched Telematin we realized the day's broadcast was to be cut short.  Broadcasting on France TV2 is given over to special programming with appearanced made by M. Hollande, M. Obama, M. Putin, Mme Merkel, and the Queen of England.


Taken individually we could pass each event off as something inconnu.  Taken in total a Thread of Meaning emerges.

So what was all this about, then?

At Pere Lachaise, the map seller said "...we French remember how you Yanks helped us."  Our neighbor said "... we French are free thanks to our American friends."  People in our conversation group wondered if we were going to pay homage to our shared histories.  The BBC Farm episode we watched helped educate us as to the size and scale of the effort the US put behind England and France.  Telematin prepared the way for a day of memory, human loss, and celebration of ultimate victory.

Today is the 70th anniversary of the D-Day landings in Normandy.  83,000 English and Australian soldiers and 73,000 Americans landed and parachuted onto France.  It was a huge, costly effort.  Omaha beach had not been properly bombed and the Allies met a much stronger than anticipated German force.  Over a 1,000 Americans died on the beach that day.  More than 4,000 English, Australian, and American soldiers were confirmed dead on the first day of the invasion.  By the end of June 875,000 men had crossed the channel from England to set foot on France.


I have to admit that the importance and meaning of history hadn't sunk in.  My most vivid memories of war were limited to seeing a few WWI (not WWII) vets who had suffered severe chemical burns that caused their faces to droop and to wondering how I could find a way to afford a Victory Year 1945 Phillipe Rothschild wine (which was rated as highly as the 1961 vintage from the same cellar).  Pretty meaningless and shallow stuff, this.

It's humbling to feel, not just pass by and read and lightly ponder, but to really feel and thereby know in a different and deep way that some events in history are extremely important to the present moment.  Many of the people we've met appreciate America for the support our politicians, industry, and countrymen actively gave to the liberation of France.

They know.  They remember.  They honor those who enabled peace in the present moment.

Beer in Europe ~ le cinquieme part

My conversation with Don The Oracle continues...

... it looks like my beverage selections 
have dwindled from a week ago... is it time
to restock...?

A quick look at a Wikipedia page about the History of Belgium Beer reveals a vast array of potentially confusing names and beer styles. Not one word about how taxes and The Church influenced choices of what to drink.  Yet, as Don The Oracle notes, One can imagine that over the centuries just about everything that can be taxed has been taxed and people have evolved strategies to avoid the tax.

What with the Church having been the vast, all pervading political and economic engine here in Europe, I can understand how Gruut fell out of favor as lower priced, tax evading, beer preserving, taste enhancing alternatives were developed.

On a different note, there seems to be little or no mention on the Wiki of Belgium Rocket Fuel called "Quadruple".  Many breweries ferment the stuff.  The alcohol content is typically between 9 and 14 percent.  A great example of this one of my All Time Favorites is Trippiste Rochefort #10 which has an ETOH level of 11 percent.  All malts.  No hops.

... the Real Stuff, this...

brewed only on Pleine Lune (full moon)...

hops are not used, either...

Meanwhile, a little closer to home, I find it fascinating that beer made in France is now predominantly industrial.  Ninety percent of everything brewed here is from one of the huge brewers.  It seems that with the Terror came a diaspora of Beer Making Monks.  They seem to have headed for Belgium and other points east.  The exception appears to be Bretagne. 

That Celtic region of what would later be included in the country we now know of as France was never, ever conquered by the Romans.  There is a wonderful series of graphic novels about the region which remain in print.  Asterix et Obelix books are Required Reading in the original language on the topic.  It's hilarious stuff, this.   With such a strong independent spirit, I suspect the Breton had more than a few things to say to the Clochards when they arrived, too.  In any event, I see I need to study the Beers of Bretagne a little more closely.

I've come to realize that the chief reason I enjoy beer to the degree I do is that it Tastes Great!  Wines, to me, while certainly very nice, just don't have a certain "body" to them that brew does.  I call it "chewiness." My taste buds being what they are, I know a good wine when I taste it, but I have no ability to predict which wines are "good" and which are not prior to uncorking the bottle.

The Gates of Heaven

The Bootlegger has a good selection of Belgium beer.

Which leads me to Don the Oracle's enlightening comments about the construct and depth of beer as compared to other ETOH-laden beverages -

The problem with preserving beer has to do with the amount of sugars, dextrin, and proteins left in the final product. Distilled spirits are almost entirely water and alcohol. The flavor components are probably in the range of parts per million. Wine is also more than 99% water and alcohol.  The flavor components being much less than 1%

Beer on the other hand can have a relatively large (couple of percent) amount of complex sugar, dextrin, even some protein left in the final product,Beer starts out as grain.  The grain is mostly complex carbohydrates, starches and protein.  To get anything fermentable the grain is malted.  It is soaked in water until it just starts to germinate. This releases a number of complex enzymes that start to metabolize the grain's stored energy to allow the plant to grow.  The germination is stopped to produce malt.

The malt is then mashed.  Mashing involves carefully heating the malted grain in water.  At various temperatures different enzymes become active and covert the proteins and starches into various forms of simpler carbohydrates (eg. sugars).  Depending on the malting and mashing processes the amount of grain converted into simple fermentable sugars can vary a lot.  Ultimately the mashed grain is boiled to dissolve out the sugars and add other flavorings such as hops.

Beer yeasts can only eat certain fairly simple sugars, there can be a lot of other more complex carbohydrates left behind.  Those remaining components contribute to the beer's flavor and texture.  There are things that can still eat those other sugars and those things are the ones that can spoil the beer.

Modern industrial brewing can pretty much convert all the grain's potential sugar to fermentable forms, plus they pasteurize the beer after it is bottled.  You can imagine that this form of complex chemistry was beyond the range of pre-industrial brewers.

... Nectar of the Gods...

There you have it.  A reminder of the common types of fermentation (Lager, Ale, Lambic).  A nearly rational understanding of how Belgium beer is made and labeled.   A rational explanation for why I like beer (finding that "chewiness" is real and that beer is more complex than, say, wine).  A clear understanding of what to try next and why.  Beers from Bretaigne are high on my list of things to seek out.  Gruut beer from Belgium must be found and sampled too.

So much to experience.  So little time to experience it in.  Don't you agree?

Beer in Europe ~ le quatrieme part

Enlightenment is at hand.  Truly.  It is.

... the Half Man Quadruple... at 11 percent ETOH...

I consulted The Oracle.  It is he I must thank for bringing my mind back to What's Important.

The Oracle happens to be a good friend and former colleague from the Software Engineering Wars we engaged in at a company we used to work for.  It is this trained in physics (as in science) Oracle who suggested that wherever you retire is where you'll put down roots.  Wise Man he is.  So it was natural that I would ask Don about beer.

Don has brewed beer for many years and shared a bottle or two of the delicious stuff.  His kind suggestions and comments have Cleared the Mind, as it were.  I can more clearly see the Lay of the Land of Beervana.  With these words -  I am no authority, but I have no objection to your passing my comments along - we begin.

... um... the year 1062?  Really??... WOW!...

First, a reminding comment about present styles of beer -

Beer, at least in modern times,  is generally divided into two main categories: Lager and Ale.

These are based on the type of yeast that is used.

Lager is generally fermented slowly at fairly cool temperatures.

Ale is generally fermented more quickly at normal room temperature.

Some people distinguish a third class of beers, Spontaneous.

This would be like one of the Belgium beers that is fermented by whatever happens to fall into the vat.

 

... what can a brewer learn in only

eight hundred years...?

 

 

Second, a few comments about hops and why they are used in present times -

Again over the millennia, preserving the fermented juice has always been problematic. An unimaginable variety of herbs and spices have been used in an attempt to preserve the product.  Hops are a relatively recent (in the grand scheme of things) solution to preserving the beer.  

Various styles have evolved often in response to conditions.  Scottish Ale for instance, brewed in a cooler clime, is high in malt and low in hops with a balance towards sweetness.

 

India Pale Ale, intended for shipment to the troops in sunny climes, is high in alcohol and was hopped very strongly to help preserve it before the days of refrigeration.

 

From this I take it that the introduction of hops in the beer making process was not an inevitability.  There have been many beer preserving solutions that were tried and discarded. I can imagine that this is because either the approach simply did not work, or because it was taxed by The Church or other Controllers of Local Economies.

I can also see where some of the beers I've enjoyed would not contain hops of any kind.  In particular, abbey beer recipes that pre-date the Age of Hops contain none of that preserving nonsense.  Perhaps it is that beer is meant to be Drunk Young?  One can only hope.

 

Barley wine. Expensive.  15percent ETOH.

Drink a bottle and go to sleep.

 

 

Third, a thought on beer terminology -

Terminology about styles of beer is probably as varied by region and the beers themselves.

 

Indeed.  Potentially confusing stuff, this.  Without a common language how can we know what we're drinking?

 

le cinquième part suivre...

Beer in Europe ~ le troisieme part

Before we move the blog along to other potentially broader, more important topics, I need to confess something.  This won't be easy.  I'm a little nervous about saying it.  It's rather un-American, actually.  Nevertheless, what must be said, well, must be said.

... oh... be still my bleating heart...

just look at all those fine examples of

Rocket Fuel waiting to be processed by

my kidneys...

I'm completely and utterly ignorant.

Yes.  There you have it.  It's true.  Absolutely.

I learned this recently when I attempted to plan a wee-trip to the Sublime State of Beervana.

Choosing between Amsterdam (or "Hamsterdam", as it suddenly becomes after a few pints of Rocket Fuel), Brussels, or Ghent, I wandered a few internet sites to try and sort out who serves the best examples of the Gods Own Beer.

... je pense que ton verre est presque vide...

Amsterdam looks interesting.  Hmmm... so does Brussels, actually.  I know nothing about Ghent, except it came up on a site that talked about taking a Beer Pilgrimage.

In similar time, Jude and I were watching BBC's Tudor Monastery Farm series.  In episode 3, Ruth Goodman very clearly states that what we call "ale" is a beverage sans houblon, without hops.  She goes on to say that "beer" starts out with "ale's" malts, but has hops (les houblon) added.

Huh.  There's something I never knew and quickly filed the bit of information away for retrieval the next morning. Remembering a bit I read on the Ghent tourist site I needed to more carefully consider something related. 

So... if one sausage goes well with beer...

um... what would four sausages go well with...?

Therein they say...

...in the best tradition of Ghent going its own way, the beers they brew there are firmly hop-free. That's because the Gruut Brewery (found on the corner of the 'Grote Huidevettershoek', right in the middle of town) has gone decidedly 'old school' in its approach to beer and ales. Back in the Middle Ages, Ghent lay on an ancient beer-making fault-line, one with religious overtones, and which split the town in two.  

On the right bank of the river Lys, under Dutch influence, brewers used the (now-dominant) approach of flavouring beer with hops.

But on the left bank, which was ruled by a French-speaking elite, the brewers kept to the much older tradition of gruut beer-making. This used a whole range of local herbs to add flavour to malted beers, and avoided hops entirely...

...Gruut beer-makers used local herbs like mugwort, ground ivy, sweet gale, yarrow, and heather for bittering, and exotic spices like aniseed, ginger, nutmeg and cinnamon. The term ale actually referred exclusively to these gruut-flavoured beers, back in the day. The Catholic church cornered this market in brewing, exacting taxes on the gruut-spice mix. So when hops became a preferred beer-drinkers tipple,  and spread across northern Europe, the Church was not happy, and even banned the hop for a while...

Now there is a LOT of information I did not know.  First, that the Catholic church taxed gruut-spice mixes.  Second, well, in truth, I didn't even know gruut-spice mixes ever existed, let along used in the brewing of ale. Third, that Ghent, and not any village or ville in Strongly Catholic France, became the Cross-Over Point to what we now call "beer" (ie: mit hoppenschkruben, that dastardly plant that led to the Rise of Budwieser and Coors and Such, apparently, Protestant Abominations).

Off I went to research Gruut (or Gruit or Gruyt - depending on, I guess, how much you've had to drink).  No mention of the Catholic Church taxing Grutt and turning tastes toward the lesser cost hop-enhanced-bubbly-stuff was found.  To add to the confusion, I came across an internet site (which I can no longer find, not enough beer, I guess) that says Gruut was served by the Catholic Church to hospital patients and the poor.

Abbey beer... a big pot of mustard...

a Vast Plate of Frites and Sausages...

hereby one comes to the Gates of Heaven...

So... which was it?  A Highly Taxed (Taxing?) Flavoring for "ale" drunk by the Overly Wealthy Overtly Catholic Belgium Upper-Classes?  Or was it commonly handed over to the Great UnWashed to smooth out the edges of Week-Old Bread Crusts version of sterilized water?

Is this why Trappistes/Cisctercian/Benedictine/Carmelite Rocket Fuel come brewed sans houblon?  Are these considered Grutt ales?

Is there really any difference between "beer" and "ale"?  Do the old definitions still hold?

Can someone, anyone, a reader of this Humble Blog (run by Someone Completely Ignorant) perhaps, shed a wee-bit-o-light on the subject?  Inquiring Minds need to know.

Perhaps more importantly, does my favorite Suds Shoppe sell modern versions of Gruut/Gruyt/Gruit?  I'm fascinated.  What On Earth does it taste like?  Does this grant one Instant Access to those Catholic Pearly Gates upon leaving one's Mortal Remains behind?  Are my sins Forever Absolved?

Someone help me out here.  Please.

Passing through the Four States of Enlightenment

Beer in Europe ~ le deuxieme part

Just as in other parts of the Civilized World, there are two primary means of enjoying beer.

Frogpubs are everywhere around Paris

and serve their own unique version of

water labeled as beer.

The first is to buy beer and take it home.  You can enjoy the peace and solitude of your own space where you can watch a rugby match and the 'loo is just over there.  You're free to drink whatever you purchased in whatever quantities your bladder can handle.  The car keys can stay well hidden, too.

While my favorite beer shop in Paris is the Bootlegger, it is far from being the only place to score a tasty brew or two.  Here is a list of well-stocked places you can visit.  Perhaps there's a conveniently located Suds Shop near you?  And  should your French language skills fail you, many shop owners/employees know enough English to get you where you need to go.

La cave au bulles is a good place

to find the State of the Art in

French microbrews

The second way to enjoy CE beer is to visit a well stocked pub, bar, bistro, or brasserie.  If you choose wisely, chances are you'll have a great time.  You can have a nice meal as well as a view of Parisian street-life as it streams by your Inside or Outside table.

The only drawback to socializing in a place like this is the price of une pinte.  This is pronounced "une pant", though one guy keeps telling me it's pronounced "une peent".  Trousers or a proper English pint pronounced in a French accent?  You decide.  In any event, it can be difficult to find a Happy Hour 4Euro "pant".  Unhappy Hour prices seem to start at 6Euros and you may be scalped for as much as 12Euro in the touristy bits of la village.

For each their own reasons, I like to frequent deux endoits.

Le Comptoir Rugby Bar can be an interesting

place to meet the locals and to find out

about variable ETOH on-tap brew

The first is le comptoir rugby bar.  Their par pression beer list is short and their menu is limited to lunch items.  Yet I like this place as it's where I learned that the French (some French, at least) love the very Anglo-Saxon sport of rugby.  It's also where I learned about a beer that comes from Normandy.

The barman said the alcohol content varies in this specific brand of beer.  Top of the barrel pours are around 9 percent.  The bottom of the barrel pours cross over to 12 percent ETOH.  So I put him to the test before ordering "une pant."  He took a shot glass and poured a wee-bit, took a swallow, swished it about the gums and teeth, and pronounced it contained closer to 9 percent than to Absolute Rocket Fuel.

Knowing these kinds of Important Details could mean the difference between a pleasant "deux pant" Tilt To The Left (it's a socialist country, until the next elections at least) on the way home and an On All Fours Baby Crawl.  I'm sure they offer this in smaller glasses, but it never occurs to me to ask.

Falstaff has a long long list of beers

to choose from as well as a nice selection

of tasty goodies on tap

The second place I like is much better stocked than le comptoir and is a real blast to visit.  Falstaff is found at 42 Rue Montparnasse just around the corner from la gare Montparnasse.  Pay attention to the difference between Avenue M. and Rue M. and you should be able to sort out how to get there.  It's otherwise not entirely obvious.

Falstaff's par pression varieties span a nice broad range of tastes and styles.  Each month (I think that's it) they offer a different specialty tap.  This month it was a brown ale from some godforsakenuncivilizedplace.  I didn't try it, but I did have my fair share of Pilsner Urquell.  While the stuff you get in the States is Better than Bud, it's absolutely brilliant on tap here in Yerp.

They offer a Trappiste (of at least one variety), a couple blonds, a few brown ales, and Guinness.  The Belgium beers on tap will be Rocket Fuel.  You've been warned.

A look at Falstaff's tap, well, one half of

it at least.  It continues far to the right

of this image (which is where - malheureusement -

French politics is schwinging these days)

I used to love Guinness, oh, about 40 years ago.  It was exotic and dark and we used to joke it was actually well used motor oyle.  Times have changed and my palate changed with the times.  At 4percent ETOH, Guinness Ain't Squat.  But it is readily available around the city.

If what Falstaff has on tap fails to excite you, read their Beer By The Bottle list.  It's amazing.  They haul in stuff from literally around the world.  It's an outstanding selection and there's something for nearly everybody.

... AND... if it's Game Night and you're up for a Serious Event, they are happy to sell you 3 liters worth of Something Really Good.  I can't imagine being coherent after that much beer.  Perhaps your liver is made of Sterner Stuff than mine?  After all that fun it seems only sporting that you'd get to keep the glass too.

Beer from small Belgium brewers can

be wonderful.  Exercise well your taste-buds

Test early.  Test often.  Pray that the

National Front fails to win the

Presidency next election cycle.

Of course there is a nice list of places elsewhere where you can soak your liver and exercise your kidneys.  Failing local advice (this is a wine producing country, after all), such lists can be a Beer Lubber's Life Savior.

Should nothing tempt you, Belgium is only a quick TGV ride away.

In short, when it comes to beer all is not bleak in Paris.