In 1731, a family by the name of Sterkens opened a brewery in Meir (now Meer), Belgium. The oldest Sterkens family brewery, Saint Sebastiaan, still operates in Antwerp. Today, Serge Van Limbergen and brewmaster Leen Sterkens are continuing the legacy in Spring Hill, where the Saint Sebastiaan Belgian Microbrewery restaurant serves up tradition, freshly yeasted libations and intense geography lessons with every meal.Saint Sebastiaan's sleek, modern dining facility is more in keeping with Pottery Barn sensibilities than Old World biergarten. (Thank goodness there's one place in town not slave to its own potential for kitsch.) The interior of the restaurant is tastefully dotted with aged beer-making artifacts and labels, coasters and tributes to the Belgian operation's brews. Whimsical details, such as the wall by the telephone that's studded with antique phones, add to the retro chic look, but the centerpiece of the décor is the giant picture window overlooking the brewing room, in which brushed steel vats stand in soft lavender lighting. The effect, which my companions and I thought at once "hip" and "hygienic," appears to be purely cosmetic. I've never been to another brewery that found it necessary to color their brewing room in blacklit ultraviolet.
My cousin, who taught me to drink in college, came along for the meal and offered most generously to take some of my pressure off and sample every beer on the menu himself. What a sweetie, huh? Saint Sebastiaan offers three beers at all times (Novice, 1731 Dark and Spring Hill Blond, each $2.99) and usually features a fourth specialty brew. During our visit, the specialty was a Belgian IPA (India Pale Ale), which is a strongly flavored ale with a light red coloring and a hint of spice. The trademark of Belgian beers is a variety of spices, fruit and herbs (instead of simply hops). The Novice, a crisp, "light" beer (or as close as the Belgians come — think Amstel Light), was liked least at my table. For some reason, the small joints tend to do better with their hearty ales. Seeing as the Novice was a lightweight 3.5 percent alcohol by volume —compared to the 5 percent or more of the others on the menu — we pressed on. The 1731 Dark, a nod to historic recipes, possessed a heavenly bouquet but left a bitter, tobacco aftertaste. The IPA was the general favorite at my table, though I preferred the Spring Hill Blond, a hazy, unfiltered ale similar to a classic Belgian brew. The Blond, the beer most often used in the restaurant's recipes, had a sweet, slightly honeyed flavor with an undercurrent of hops.
The menu conveniently points out meals that incorporate Saint Sebastiaan beers, as well as traditional Belgian specialties. And both the menu and the place mats are chock-full of history on brewing, beers and Belgium, in that order. (I never knew Liz Claiborne was Belgian, though I was aware of Audrey Hepburn and Jean-Claude Van Damme's native land.) Those of you who, like me, hold Beermaster diplomas from the prestigious Busch Gardens Beer School (motto: "Have You Ever Gone on the Kumba after Four Free Beers?"), might be interested in taking a tour of the brewery. And for lazy diners, the place mats will tell you plenty without you even leaving the table.
Properly lubricated, we delved into our meal. Traditional Belgian food is similar to low French, with an emphasis on sauces, cheese and grilled meat with french fries. As the historical footnote on the menu points out, they aren't called french fries because they are French, but because of the way they are cut — an argument I made several times during the whole Freedom Fry Fiasco of 2003. However, it cannot be denied that pomme frites, no matter what you call them, are popular in France. They are also, apparently, popular in Belgian cuisine, and the menu at Saint Sebastiaan stakes a claim that fries originated in the late 17th century as a fisherman's winter favorite. The truth may be forever lost to the annals of culinary history, but it is a stated fact that many of the meals at Saint Sebastiaan are served with a side of "original Belgian fries" and ketchup.
I am left wondering about the palates of Spring Hill's population, since we received an advance caveat about the "unusual cuisine," many choices come labeled "traditional Belgian dish," and even our waitress raised her eyebrows when we ordered solely native items. Come on, guys. Chicken reine (aka chicken á la king, $11.99)? There is nothing so foreign on this menu to give anyone pause. Even the more unusually named dishes have familiar counterparts. The Gothfrieds ($15.99) are simply grilled pork and beef skewers with peppers, onions and a side of sauce provencale. The blond beer soup ($3.29) tastes like thick chicken broth with a hint of beer and leek, and the Belgian stew ($12.49) is a thick, savory goulash with meat so tender you almost need a spoon to eat it. The stew, with its dark, beer-based broth and tender beef, won the most points at my table, though every entrée was enjoyed. However, I liked the herb-infused, continental-style tomato cream soup ($2.99) better than the blander blond beer soup.
In the realm of appetizers, the Belgian pasta fry ($4.99) was most reminiscent of pub food. Bite-sized chunks of pasta, chopped onions, carrots and celery were battered, deep fried and served with the sort of spicy cream sauce currently being enjoyed by Bloomin' Onion fans the world over. My favorite, the salad Ardennes ($8.99), is a salad for people who don't like salads, as any hint of greenery was completely buried under a mountain of warm, crunchy bacon and sautéed apples and raisins tossed with honey and wine vinaigrette. The portobello toast ($5.99) was a deceptively simple mix of onions, mushrooms and bell peppers sautéed in butter, black pepper and enough garlic to keep the vampires away, and served as a sandwich between two pieces of garlic toast. Though it doesn't sound like anything special, the toast was quickly devoured by everyone at my table.
For dessert, we knew we wouldn't escape Saint Sebastiaan without getting our hands on some dark, rich Belgian chocolate, which we sampled in syrup form on top of a sundae. We also tried a new specialty item, beer-battered fried apples with blond beer ice cream, a new recipe developed in tandem by the folks at Saint Sebastiaan and The Ice Cream Factory in Port Richey. Though no one at my table could taste the beer in the ice cream, the deep-fried apple and ice cream combo was a perfect delight to finish the meal.
Though Spring Hill is a bit of a trek, diners interested in trying classic European-style beer and Flemish food in stylish surroundings should set out for Saint Sebastiaan. Cheers!
Freelance writer Diana Peterfreund dines anonymously and the Planet pays for her meals. She may be contacted at diana.peterfreund@weeklyplanet.com. Restaurants are chosen for review at the discretion of the writer, and are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Nov 3-9, 2004.