The Less-Than-Legal Ways to Get Your Hands on the World's Best Trappist Beer

The Roman Catholic church tells us to feed the hungry and provide drinks to the thirsty. Monks worldwide have been doing just that for hundreds of years, just by brewing beer.

The practice started during Lent in the 17th century. The monks and priests weren't allowed to eat bread, but drinking was OK, so they started playing around with water, wheat, and hops, and ended up brewing something that some people still refer to as "liquid bread": Trappist beer. Even the most pious monks used beer to silence their growling stomachs—sneaky, but definitely smart. And it probably made praying a lot more fun.

At this time, there are only 11 Trappist breweries left in the world, two of which are in the Netherlands and six in Belgium. The remaining three are located in Austria, Italy, and the United States. The monks brew the beer within the four walls of the abbey, sell it, and invest their earnings in community projects, living necessities, and building maintenance. In the Belgian rural town of Westvleteren, things have gotten quite serious; the priests and monks of the Sint-Sixtus abbey make the most exclusive Trappist beer in the world: Westvleteren Twaalf.

The Twaalf, which has been named best beer in the world four times since 2005 and is strong enough to make even the most experienced drinkers dance atop a table after only three glasses, can't be bought in stores. Just like Blond and Tien—the other varieties brewed by the monks in Westvleteren—Twaalf is only for sale at the abbey where it is brewed and in the bar right across the street from it. Even there, it's not always in stock: although the beer-loving world has been begging the priests for their daily bottle of bread, they refuse to make more than 60,000 bottles a year. They also don't want to sell their beer to any other bars, restaurants, or liquor stores, as the stress that comes with running that kind of business would disrupt their religious lifestyle too much.

The only time Westvleteren beer was ever sold in supermarkets was when the priests needed money to renovate the abbey. The lines for the coveted bottles went around the block, and in most places the beer sold out in less than an hour.

Because nothing will make people want something like telling them they can't have it, there are now quite a few legal and less than legal ways to get your hands on a bottle of Westvleteren Trappist.

Reserve your crate by phone The first legal way to get your hands on an entire crate of Westvleteren is to place an order using the so-called Biertelefoon ("beer phone"). This phone service was created specifically to make lining up for beer a thing of the past. Queuing up sounds crazy, but it happened for years; the priests would write the next release date of the beer on a big board outside the abbey, causing people to line up for miles on that day in hopes of getting their hands on a few crates. The police were needed to regulate traffic and settle disputes between stressed-out beer lovers in line. If the taste of Trappist beer is heaven, this was hell.

Now that stress has been relocated to the homes of Westvleteren fans. Anyone who wants their own little piece of beer paradise has to call the Biertelefoon and wait on hold for hours. The special phone line is open twice a month for three to four hours at a time. There's even a website that tells people when they should start calling. This often results in people calling hundreds of times, only to find out that the beer has already sold out.

Calling the Biertelefoon isn't free, either: at about 30 euro cents (about US 33 cents) a minute, people end up spending more on calling than they would on the beer. Lucky callers who happen to get an actual priest on the phone can make an appointment for a specific day to get their specialty drinks. They need to provide the priest on the other end of the line with their license plate number, as every car is only allowed to carry two crates of Westvleteren from the abbey into the outside world. If you try to call the Biertelefoon again within 60 days following the day that you make your appointment, your call will be ignored. Your car will also not be allowed on the abbey's property within that timeframe, nor after you have picked up your two crates at the appointed time.

Buy a six-pack at the bar across the street Across the street from the abbey is a bar called De Vrede, a café with a small shop attached, where Westvleteren is sold in six-packs. Getting your hands on six bottles is a matter of luck, because the store doesn't always have it. "People are usually disappointed," the store clerk tells me. "Either they want the Tien and we only carry the Twaalf, or they want dark ale and we only have Westvleteren Blond. Sometimes we don't have anything, and then people get angry because they have come from afar and will be going home without any beer."

Be inventive: getting the most out of a trip to the store The people want what the people want, and in this case, the people want beer. One six-pack per person isn't a lot, but if you're willing to think outside of the box, you can get more than that out of a trip to Westvleteren. Consider driving to Westleveren with an empty trunk and a car full of friends who will all pick you up a six-epack, or ask locals to get in line for you in exchange for a few euros.

There are more creative ways, though. My friends' father wanted to give every single person at an upcoming family get-together a bottle of Westvleteren beer. To do this, he would need 12 bottles. He drove to the village with two different outfits and went into the store twice without being recognized by the store clerk.

Find a beer dealer who will bypass the priests People who don't have the time or the obsessive focus it takes to go to Westvleteren for a crate or a six-pack need a beer dealer. On eBay and the Dutch version of Craigslist called Marktplaats, plenty of people sell the beer for prices that are far above retail. At the abbey, a crate of beer will cost you 30 to 40 euros, depending on which kind you get. On eBay, you won't find that same crate for under 100 euros.

Priest Paul, who put me on the line with priest Godfried, who then connected me back to priest Paul, told me that it makes them very unhappy when they see people reselling the beer. "It's our sacred wish that this doesn't happen. We even mention on the receipt that people are not allowed to turn the beer into a business. So anyone who buys in Westvleteren enters into a silent agreement with us. Still, there are people who get together and act as couriers for wholesale buyers and bars. This really hurts our feelings. We can't do anything about it. We're focusing on coming up with a new sale system, which can't be taken advantage of by people who want to make money off the beer."

Spend too much money at a bar More and more bars sell Wesvleteren these days. A bottle will easily cost up to 12 euros. Gollem Raamsteeg, Cracket Kettle, and Arendsnest are a few bars in Amsterdam that have Westvleteren on their menu. After making a few calls, it quickly became clear to me that these bars are in touch with both Dutch and Belgian beer dealers. It's all very hush-hush, but apparently, every once in a while a van full of Westvleteren makes its rounds through Amsterdam, providing the bar owners with the Belgian liquid gold.

"Sometimes I have to go and look for it; other times they come knocking on my door," says bar owner Peter van der Arend. "I can't really say anything else about it. People who are in this business also won't really want to talk about it, I assure you. They keep their mouths firmly shut. More media attention will just lead to more people asking for the beer, which will make it even harder to get enough Westvleteren."

The bar owners don't feel guilty. Peter says, "We're not doing anything wrong. I buy the beer from a single guy, not a business. Nowhere on the receipt does it say I'm not allowed to then sell it again."

Small-business owners also don't see the problem. At the Spirit of Wine in a Dutch town called Heemskerk, a bottle of Westvleteren retails for 12.95 euros. The woman behind the counter tells me that this is her way of supporting the abbey. "Westvleteren is such a beautiful product and it has competition from so many other, newer beers. It might be a little iffy to sell it here, but the brand wouldn't survive if they only sell it in the abbey. So really, we're helping the monks."

Soothe yourself with Westleveren's lesser twin If all of the above is way too intense for you—the priests are too strict, the beer dealers too expensive—you can always switch over to Sint-Bernardus. This beer is pretty much Westvleteren Twaalf's twin brother.

Officially, it's not a Trappist beer because it isn't brewed between the four walls of an abbey, but the recipe is exactly the same as Westvleteren. During World War II, the abbot decided that the friars shouldn't be brewing as much beer because it took a lot of time away from their religious vocation, so he sent the recipe to the Sint-Bernardus brewery in Watou, a town eight miles down the road. As instructed by Westvleteren, the brewery made a commercial copy of the beer and named it St. Sixtus. After the contract ended, the beer was renamed Sint-Bernardus.

Years ago, the priests of Sint-Sixtus made this commercial move, and now their way of distributing their liquid bread is so exclusive that Westvleteren had become the most sought-after beer in the world. Everyone is longing for a taste, and people are willing to pay top dollar to get it.

Who says that friars aren't businessmen?