Two Kinds of Sour: Cuvée De Ranke

Much like my friend Joe at Old World Old School, who included drinking more beer and paying more attention to it among his resolutions for the New Year, I've been meaning to write about beer here at MFWT at least a little more often for some time now. It's the paying attention part that really clicked with me, as beer already slots in pretty regularly to my eating and drinking routines. There was a major focus on beer during the course of my posse's pub crawling activities last weekend. One of our stops, in particular, provided plenty to contemplate, though we of course never lost sight of pursuing the pleasure principle.

In a city increasingly populated with great beer-centric bars and restaurants (if only wine would catch up...), we still couldn't pass up a visit to that holy grail of all brews Belgian: Monk's Cafe. Having set the stage with a thirst quenching bottle of Cantillon Gueuze and a follow-up with Lost Abbey's Red Barn Ale, our server, Jill, didn't hesitate one second when I asked her what I should try next. "Cuvée De Ranke." Cantillon, I do love you; and Lost Abbey, I like you well enough, though I'm still getting to know you. But Jill nailed it, for on this day it was the Cuvée De Ranke that most captured my attention and most delivered on the principles of pleasure. With an ever so slightly sweet, more so sour center akin to better known Flemish Sour Ales, followed up by a funky, tart sneak-attack à la spontaneously fermented Gueuze, and finished off with a refreshing hint of hoppy bitterness, the De Ranke was a very complete, primordially satisfying brew.

Ex post-facto research reveals that my gut reactions to the beer were more accurate than I could have expected. "Cuvée," it turns out, actually is a blend of two styles of Belgian sour beer. About 70% of the blend is a red/brown sour ale brewed by De Ranke in the tradition of the Roeselare/Kortrijk/Oudenaarde regions, top-fermented using Rodenbach (perhaps the most famous Flemish sour producer) yeast strains. The other 30% of the blend is actually lambic, which De Ranke purchases from Brouwerij Girardin. After blending, the beer is bottle-matured before release. According to De Ranke, it is capable of mid-term aging. It didn't stand much of a chance of that on our table, though.

De Ranke is brought into the US by one of my favorite beer importers, Shelton Brothers; you'll find more information about their beers at the Sheltons' site as well as at De Ranke's homepage.

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A Burger and a Beer: Monk's Cafe

I can think of hundreds of good reasons to fight the crowds at Monk’s Café. But as the majority of those reasons are the same, the big three will do: burgers, mussels and, no surprise, beer – lots and lots of beer. Is there other food on the menu at Monk’s? Of course, and some of it does rise above the normally insipid yet filling standard of pub grub. There’s good, rustic country pâté and a pretty respectable braised rabbit dish (Lapin à la Gueuze). When all is said and done though, the strengths at Monk’s are undeniably the standard bearers for Belgian style cafés across America: moules frites, offered with a variety of sauces and ingredients, and burgers, also with choices of an atypical and savory range of toppings.

What sets the burgers apart at Monk’s is not their decadence. There’s no foie gras stuffing, they’re not as rich in fat or as extravagantly portioned as at Rouge for instance; in fact, they’re unlikely ever to take the honors for the “best” in Philly. I love them, rather, for their consistency – not in texture but in quality. If there’s anything the hard working line chefs at Monk’s have mastered, it’s cooking burgers – I’m talking beef here, not about the veggie and white meat options also offered on the menu – to the proper temperature every time. They’re served on chewy, firm stirato rolls, slightly oversized to make for relatively grease free fingers.

My fallback selection when opting for a burger at Monk’s is the Ardennes, topped with Ardennes ham and Belgian cheese. The ham lends smoky, salty and slightly sweet cured goodness to the juicy burger beneath. On my most recent visit, with friends and old Monk’s fans who were visiting from CA, I opted for something with a little more bite: the Ghent burger, topped with broccoli rabe sautéed with garlic and finished with a melt of cheddar. The Ghent’s toppings provide contrast to the richness of the burger with sharp zestiness from the cheddar and an acidic, slightly bitter tang courtesy of the broccoli. Washed down with a little Brasserie Thiriez Extra and a bottle of classically funky, spontaneously fermented Girardin Gueuze, it made for a warmly satisfying finale to a relaxed day spent wandering about town.

Monk’s Café
16th & Spruce Street
Philadelphia, PA 19103
215-545-7005

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