Whether it was because I was traveling on a shoe string and not able to buy much beer, or because the beer was exceptionally good, I didn’t know. After that one beer 30 years ago, I never had it again. I could never find it in any other bar or restaurant.
Until today, that is. Richard and I stopped for lunch at a cafe near the Eiffel Tower, and there on the menu to my surprise was a Pelforth Brune. I had to get it, and I did. It was as excellent as I remembered — smooth and rich, yet light at the same time. And it comes in a pretty cool bottle, too.
It’s nice when reality matches your memories.