What could be more authentically working class than an entire neighbourhood named after a beer? Seefhoek has kept its gritty character against the forces  of gentrification decades after Seef, its iconic foaming raison d’etre, was consigned to oblivion. 

Like the 100 or more Antwerp breweries that once made it or a similar beer. The recipe apparently lost. Few folk alive who could even recall its actual taste. Enter the self-styled Indiana Jones of fermentation reclamation – one Johan Van Dyck. 

On our recent trip to the Flemish city we never made it to Seehoek, described by one guide as a labyrinthine enclave. For generations a redoubt for the Roma people, it’s a cultural melting pot with over 100 nationalities represented. Next visit we’ll check it out.

Instead, this time, 2.5km to the north on Eilandje, a former dockland site, we sought out Antwerpse Brouw Compagnie (Antwerp Brewing Company) and the visionary brewer who brought the eponymous Seef back to life. It’s an amazing story. Told, as it should be, across an enjoyable tasting flight in the taproom. Our slight unease about making it back to Brussels for the flight home assuaged by the quality of the ABC beer range. 

For too long De Koninck held the monopoly as the Antwerp brew, with its characteristic bolleke glass. Nowadays it comes under the umbrella of Duvel Moortgat, where Johan used to be marketing director before quitting to set up his own brewery on the back of three years of Seef research. 

His true brewing idol, though, is there for all to see on a display in the taproom – the legendary Pierre Celis, a milkman who single-handedly revived Belgium’s traditional witbier (cloudy white beer) style in the Sixties, naming it after his village, Hoegaarden. He later moved to Colorado to help kick-start the American craft beer movement. Johan brewed under Pierre before his death in 2011. 

There are similarities in the rebirth of Seef. The 6,5 per cent Belgian blonde we taste has similar hints of coriander, maybe clove, and a (lighter) cloudiness but other attributes that are all its own. Some spice, floral hoppiness and a hint of banana and tropical fruits. Is this how it tasted originally in its 19th century heyday with different yeasts? The buckwheat base remains the same, rather than the barley of its rivals.

Seef dates back to the 1700s. It is easy to forget that the distinctive amber ale that is De Koninck’s signature brew only rose to prominence in the 1930s. By then the First World War and the conquering Germans’ thirst for Pils and pillaging of brewing equipment had killed off Seef production. Any scientific records seemingly vanished also.

Which left Antwerp native Johan, who had stumbled upon Seef – the ‘Champagne of the Working Class – in a book about Antwerp’s important brewing history, with a mammoth task on his hands. Cue tracking down descendants of families who owned breweries before the War.

Eventually, Eureka, the Holy Grail. He found an 90-year-old brewer who had saved his original hand-written Seef recipe. Johan’s Indiana Jones-like persistence had paid off.

Now came the leap of faith to be able to replicate it with modern equipment. In one interview he recalls: “I had two major challenges. The first was yeast – I did know what characteristics were needed for the correct fermentation and aromas, but the exact yeast was obviously not included in the recipe. The second was the process: the recipe I found was a practical description from the late 1800s. As a brewer I needed the actual values of temperature, the speed at which the brewhouse heats the mash, etc., because all of this impacts flavours and aromas.”

To his rescue came the University of Leuwen’s faculty of brewing chemists, who held in their vaults the historical Antwerp yeast used in 1900s beer-making. It gave him the green light in 2011 to start his first brewing trials on an old colleague’s equipment. The result  soon began to win multiple awards, eventually encouraging Johan and his partner Karen Follens to crowdfund today’s brewery and taproom just a 10 minute walk from the rusty red bastion of reinvented Antwerp, MAS (Museum aan de Stroom). Well worth a visit for its exhibitions, not just the stupendous views.

We loved the unique Seef (which Johan has trademarked), but it it is only part of an impressive beer roster encompassing a Radio Minerva, a 7 per cent Tripel created to champion an endangered local radio station, Lucie, a tea-infused 8 per cent blond, and the very quaffable, tropical Eilandje. But the stand-out was the Bootjes Bier, a tribute to the historic Red Star Line. Its museum in the original HQ is just a short walk away and vividly evokes the part their liners played in transatlantic emigration. 

Refined with ginger and coriander, this complex Flemish red ale is very Belgian; a fresh hop pale Johan poured from the tank felt very American Craft. Antwerp has always faced out to neew worlds.

Antwerpse Brouw Compagnie, Indiëstraat 21, 2000 Antwerpen, Belgium. Some pictures courtesy of the brewery

It’s not all about technicolor parades and mariachi bands, you know. This year’s Mexican Independence Day (September 15) has become my excuse to make inroads into our glut of gooseberries. Who would have thought the little green globules could make a substitute for tomatillos (hard to source in this part of the Pennines)?

The consequent salsa, also featuring tart apples from our communal orchard, is set to partner a whole braised oxtail. Sourced from Gazegill Organics, not Guadalajara. Down Mexico way they call tongue lengua and it is the base for a particularly tasty taco.

The inspiration for all this kitchen activity is Mexican Soul: A New Style of Cooking by Santiago Lastra (Quadrille, £30). Born 45 minutes south of Mexico City, 36-year-old Lastra has pursued a stratospheric trajectory in iconic restaurants such as Mugaritz and Noma and contributed to the Basque Culinary Centre and the Nordic Food Lab, culminating in his own Michelin one-star in London – KOL. Last year it held its 49th place in the 50 World’s Best Restaurants list.

Fonda, (pictured above) its deliberately casual sibling off Regent Street, is the more straightforward proposition, importing authentic ingredients from the old country, including the vast palette of chillies, to recreate regional home-style  classics in appropriately colourful setting. On my spring visit I just loved it. Fave dish was the bone-in short rib mole and exemplary fish tacos.

Fonda and KOL are both also committed to using the best British raw materials wherever possible, but only at his starry flagship does the inventive Lastra follow his mission statement to seek out local ingredient alternatives. Those roasted gooseberries instead of tomatillos for the requisite sour kick, an essential part of the Mexican food experience. Kombucha in place of lies. For guacamole instead of avocados, Scottish pine oil and pistachios. The only ingredients he brings in directly from Mexico for KOL are corn, chilli, and chocolate.

This mission statement extends into the more user-friendly Mexican Soul, which is designed to persuade readers that their inability to source mas harina, epazote, nopalitos, achiote and chilaquiles at the local supermarket many not proved a barrier to their gringo culinary ambitions. He freely admits that as a boy Mexico’s own food heritage did not grab him. It was from the outside looking in that he developed his grasp on its nuances. “When people used to ask me in the kitchens I worked in, ‘Oh Santiago, make some Mexican food. You’re Mexican.’ I would refuse. I refused for 10 years. I saw it as a sort of sacrilege.”

In the ‘Mexican Soul Cooking’ section of his book Lastra writes of his quest for accessibility: “It wasn’t about using only specialist British ingredients, like we do at KOL, where we can employ foragers to find different kinds of pinecones, meadowsweet, woodruff and wood ants. They are incredible ingredients, but the sourcing of them is so complicated… It wasn’t about using ‘authentic’ Mexican ingredients, either like we do at Fonda, which would never be available for the home cook (the masa for their tortillas is made fresh every day from nixtamalized barley, commissioned from Aberdeen).

His background as a mathematics whizz came to his rescue. “In maths, the answer is not in learning things by rote or following formulas but in trying to find answers through lateral thinking… I determined to go to the local supermarket in London and use only what was readily available. I thought to myself: if I can’t cook Mexican food from this, not one will be able to. And just like a maths problem, we found an exciting and surprising solution through the act of limitation.”

The first part of Mexican Soul sets his ‘developments’ in the context of how Mexican food works. After which guacamole using pistachios, tortillas made with mashed potato, Oaxaca cheese replaced by mozzarella and, my favourite – welcome to the wild garlic poppadom quesadilla.

Tacos de lengua with gooseberry and apple salsa

My idea of lateral thinking appears to be, scrolling through the index to check gooseberries’ role, along with coriander and chives, in ‘Oxtail with Green Mole’ and being intrigued by the preceding ‘Ox’ recipe – ‘Ox Tongue Divorciada’. The term Divorciados commonly refers to a dish dressed in two different styles of salsa. A habanero-led salsa roja would fit the bill  and the raw salsa verde just had to be Lastra’s invention, using goosegogs and Granny Smiths. The supermarket ones looked too waxy by half, so I substituted our scabbed windfalls

The oxtail dish looked labour intensive with overnight preparation; the ox tongue much simpler, braising with black peppercorns, garlic and bay leaves, then cooled skinned and seared in slices. Confession: I ignored the recommendation to serve with warm sourdough, instead using (sacrilege) supermarket mini flour tortillas to create Tacos de Lengua. Lastra’s version of the famous Tacos al Pastor employs cabbage leaf cups as the vessel of choice.

The same day I cooked the ox tongue I chanced upon some meaty oxtail on Todmorden Market and defrosted further gooseberries from the freezer. The Mexican ‘Year of the Ox’ goes on for this independent-minded cook. Mexican Soul is the perfect primer for novices to a sometimes daunting cuisine.

Salsa recipe

Ingredients

300g Granny Smith apples, roughly chopped but not peeled

100g fresh or frozen gooseberries

140g roasted onions

40g roasted and peeled cherry tomatoes

4 roasted bird’s eye chillies (or to taste)

2 roasted garlic cloves

1½ tbsp honey

30g coriander or chervil, stalks included

20g chives

2tsp sea salt flakes

350ml water

Method

Preheat the oven to 200°C. Place the apples and gooseberries on a baking tray and roast the apples for 15 minutes, the gooseberries for 10. Remove form oven, leave to cool, then transfer to food processor with remaining ingredients and blend until smooth, adjusting water quantity to achieve a smooth loose salsa. Store in refrigerator for up to two days.

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