The Belgian Mare

A Fine, Upstanding Barkeep of the Sporting Persuasion

I consider myself lucky to have as talented a staff as I do between the two properties (Maynards and Congress). I think that, for the most part, we’re almost like a family. Granted, a dysfunctional one at that, and if I am going to continue with that analogy, then that would ultimately make me the creepy, drunk uncle who rants and raves from the couch and occasionally scares everyone straight by delivering an inebriated, impassioned speech on the front porch at 3 a.m. while holding a shotgun. Trust me, this has happened more times than you know.

I am especially lucky to have added nationally-recognized mixologist Ciaran Wiese to our Manson-esque family. For those of you out there who aren’t familiar with Mr. Wiese, he’s a young Tucson native who had the good fortune to get the hell out of this wasteland for a couple of years and experience the bright lights of the Big Apple for a few years; cavorting around with leading mixologists from Jack the Horse Tavern, Death & Co. and more. Eventually he returned to Tucson, where he set up shop at Barrio Restaurant (R.I.P. Barrio, ye ain’t what ye used to be) handcrafting cocktails in a classic fashion. I was lucky enough to spend some time observing him and tasting his fantastic libations, and man was I impressed… which is saying something. The times I’ve been impressed by someone’s cocktailing in this town have been few and far between, though I will also mention as an aside that I am also quite fond of Patrick O’Brien (also formerly of Barrio) and his cocktail program over at Sky Bar–he’s doing some good things, as well–but in general, the drinks I get are invariably pedestrian, and half the time the bars don’t even have real ginger ale so I stick to hoppy beers that make me constantly feel like a gaseous toddler.

But anyway… it just so happened that I had some open shifts for someone who was cocktail-inclined, and Ciaran made the huge mistake of accepting my offer and is now roped into a form of indentured servitude that makes Ancient Egypt look like a Royal Caribbean Cruise. As an added bonus: in addition to his expertise behind the stick, Ciaran also has a wealth of original cocktail recipes that he has so foolishly shared with me. One such recipe is for a drink that Ciaran calls “The Fat Monk”: a beguiling blend of incongruous ingredients, and yet…

The Fat Monk

2 oz. Anjou Pear-infused Herradura Blanco

.75 oz. Franziskaner Heffe Weisse Syrup

.75 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice

dash Regan’s No. 6 Orange Bitters

Egg White

Dry-shake Whites and lemon juice, then add additional ingredients. Dry-shake once more, add ice, continue to shake, strain into a chilled coupe with a pear slice garnish.

This drink ends up tasting much like a Belgian-style sweet ale with hints of pear. In the version presented to me, I do believe he added a touch of sparkling wine (which he assured me would “…make the egg whites go crazy!”) and the drink indeed mimicked a thick-headed ale. To me, the drink was a revelation, and I set about doing some mimicking of my own.

First thing was first: I had to re-create his Hefe Weisse syrup. But I didn’t want to waste any bottles of Franziskaner for my test run, so I went with a much-maligned substitute: Shock Top Belgian White. For those who don’t know about Shock Top, it is a Belgian Whit-style beer produced by Michelob Brewing under the auspices of the Anheuser-Busch/ImBev empire… so you can imagine that it’s not exactly the pinnacle of craft beers. Still, it IS enormously drinkable, and beats the pants off of its chief rival, Blue Moon. I keep it on tap because invariably customers want an easy-drinking hef without the clove or banana profile, and will request it with an orange, anyway. Also, my assistant manager single-handedly drinks the Fry’s on Grant and 1st dry of Shock Top on his off nights, so I am inclined to favor a Shock Top now and again myself.

I poured a pitcher of Shock Top into a pan, and following Ciaran’s advice I let it settle for a few hours. Then I used a whisk to literally beat the carbonation out of the thing for another few hours before setting it on the stove and bringing it to a boil. Then I let it simmer until I had reduced it to approximately less than a third of its orginal volume. It was time to add the sweetening/thickening agent: Sugar in the Raw, or Demerara. I added approximately eight ounces of Sugar in the Raw and after it was completely dissolved I simmered some more.

The result was a syrup that was entirely too sweet and without the clove and spice hints that made the Franziskaner so effective. But it wasn’t a complete loss… Unlike with Ciaran’s recipe, my copycat recipe was supposed to rely heavily on cognac, so I figured with the right amount of balance I could thin out the sweetness. I shelved the syrup late on a Sunday night and decided to return a few days later to experiment.

When I came back to work on Tuesday I discovered that someone had removed the cork to my bottle of syrup. I was furious. I found a replacement, and put the syrup back on the shelf. Things got busy with a show and I didn’t have time to play around with my version of the Fat Monk.

On Thursday, the cork was once again missing. I became enraged until I examined the liquid inside. It had formed a thick, foamy head and had tiny bubbles coursing all throughout it. My syrup had re-fermented.

I was an excited, jabbering mess when I found Ciaran at the bar. After explaining what had happened, I poured him a small taste in an old fashioned glass. His eyes lit up.

“Dude, it’s mead. You made mead.”

Mead, for those unfamiliar, is a traditional alcoholic beverage made from mixing honey and water with fermenting yeast. The result is a sweet, syrupy beverage with a high alcohol content.

While I had not made mead, I accidentally had made something similar. I let the mixture rest for an additional 9 days before refrigerating it and serving it. And this was the result:

"The Belgian Mare"

Rich, velvety, sweet, & seriously alcoholic. There were elegant notes from the demerara, but also a pumpkin quality and some very fruity and floral notes on the nose. I would estimate the end result to be at least 8% alcohol, but it tasted more like a very hot wine (14.5%)

The Belgian Mare

64 oz. Shock Top Belgian White

Reduce to approx. 20 oz. after settling/beating/removing carbonation

Add 5 oz. Sugar in the Raw (this is less than I used, but that’s probably a good thing. Maybe 6 oz.)

Pour results (should be about 750 ml) into a large container with a semi-closed top (so that CO2 can escape.) Add 1 oz Shocktop to ensure that yeast is still active and isn’t killed in boiling process.

Let sit for approx. 2 weeks. You should notice the fermentation. Chill and serve.

I’m really big on names… the “Belgian Mare” comes from a character in James Michener’s Alaska: a tough-minded Dawson City prostitute. Somehow I feel the name is fitting.