4 Brown Beers for Saint Martin

"Do you have any wines from Tours, France?" I asked my co-worker friend, Randy. He wasn't sure where Tours was, so I showed him a map of France with "Tours" in big letters. He doesn't know of anything from around there. We ask the other wine stewards and even the wine distributors on hand. Nobody knows.

"Why are you so interested in that particular region?" Randy finally asks me. So I tell him a little story about Saint Martin of Tours, one of the men of Christian antiquity that I admire most.

When I get home from work I do a little more research, only to find out that Tours is the largest city of a major wine-making region! I decided to get myself a wine from that (Loire) region to celebrate the man tonight.

When I get to the big wine store, I discover that they only have super-pricey wines from this region. Bummer. So I instead purchased 4 brown beers that I have been curious about for a while.

6:15 p.m.-- Got home with a double cheeseburger and opened up the new organic brew from North Coast Brewery, the Cru d'Or. I wasn't expecting it to be a dark tripel, but it was pretty nice. It's amazing how you can tell a beer is Belgian immediately when you open the bottle - there's something totally unique about the smell of Belgian yeast strains. No other other region in the world smells like it. This tiny little country produces the most interesting and complex yeast strains and actually ships them all over the world to make local brewmasters giddy. I wonder if this isn't something like what God had in mind when He chose Israel to be a blessing (leaven) among the nations...

10:05 p.m -- Finished reading the first half of The Diving Milieu, by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. It is too wonderful outside, so I grab my Nicaraguan cigar and pour Old Peculier into my Abbey goblet and set up the hammock. I was reading a book that said this English Ale went well with smoked meats, so I figured it would go well with smoke, too. The sweet malty flavor does indeed, but there isn't enough body to match the spicey smokiness. Still, this beer is what Newcastle should be. Looking up at the trees blowing about in the wind, hearing the cars soar by on the other side of the wall, being enfolded in the unspeakable goodness of God - this is what my worn soul has been pleading for.

10:50 p.m. -- Sean joins me outside on the porch and we split the Hibernation Ale together. Funny, all I wanted to do tonight was hibernate, to hide away alone in my cell (actually, it's the "sun room") and take in the spirit of the great hermit-bishop-missionary-monk, Martin. But, also like Martin, there were people coming to talk with me. Strangely, they weren't such an interruption. Sean and I hibernated together, words and thoughts -- but mostly silence and presence. The clouds were rolling quickly over the bright lantern-moon. Sean is going to be a great husband and missionary-monk in his own right, and this is one of the most well-balanced heavy beers I've ever had.

12:15 p.m. -- After taking a shower to get rid of the cigar forcefield, I approach the computer with my final sampling, the highly coveted St. Bernardus Abbot 12 -- a true Trappist wonder. I'm up way too late, but the time feels holy. I've found myself in Christ in this little make-shift cell. The Tallis Scholars harken the Middle Ages. The juniper incense swirls thick European romance. The beer is remarkably smooth and pleasing. I want each taste to bring with it the character and flavor of the abbotts of old. I want to be like Saint Martin of Tours.