Trappist Monks Are Mad that a Supermarket Is Jacking Up the Price of Their Beer

The monks at the Abbey of Saint Sixtus of Westvleteren have been brewing and bottling their own beer for almost 180 years, and they’ve remained insistent that it should only be sold to meet their own needs, not to make fat stacks of euros. That’s why they had to be shaking their collective fists and muttering whatever Flemish monks consider swear words when they learned that a supermarket in the Netherlands was selling their brew—and that the store had jacked up the price by 500 percent.

Jan Linders, a Dutch chain, somehow scored 300 crates of Westvleteren’s Trappist beers, and is charging customers €9.95 ($12.30) per bottle. (The price tags at the Abbey range from €1.45 to €1.90 per bottle, depending on the style of beer).

“A price of nearly €10 per bottle goes against the ethical standards and values that the monks face,” an Abbey spokesperson told The Guardian. “Every beer lover knows that the Trappists of Westvleteren do not pursue profit maximization, they only produce as much beer as is necessary to provide for their livelihood. All the profits made go to the abbey charity.”

The supermarket essentially shrugged its shoulders, saying that all 7,200 bottles were sold within a few hours and that it didn’t really turn a profit on it because it had to repay its suppliers. (This is where the monks would collectively point out that NO ONE is supposed to turn a profit on the beer. That’s the whole point).

“We see [selling this beer] as a reward for the fact that we have been voted the best specialty beer supermarket in the Netherlands for several years,” a spokesperson for Jan Linders told Dutch newspaper De Limburger.

According to Belgium’s own Beer Tourism website, the Westvleteren monks originally started brewing beer as a way to pay the construction crews who were building their monastery; at the time, each builder had to be given two beers every day. (Note to self: Aim Time Machine toward 19th-century Belgium). The monks’ brewing capabilities continued to grow, and the first on-site brewery was established in 1839. A century-and-change later, the head of the Abbey decided that booze was “[interfering] with their true spiritual calling” and the beer-making facilities were moved off-site.

That arrangement lasted until 1992, when Belgian regulations changed and, in order for a brew to be considered a true Trappist beer, it had to be made by Trappist monks at a Trappist monastery. Beer production resumed at the abbey, and now they produce about 5,000 hectoliters (132,000 gallons) of Trappist brilliance every year. (That’s not a lot of beer, relatively speaking. Chimay, the largest of Belgium’s six Trappist beermakers, churns out about 3.2 million gallons every year).

Westvleteren’s brews might have remained hidden gems until website RateBeer.com blabbed about their good quality, and crowned its ultra-dark, ultra-strong Westvleteren 12 (XII) as the Best Beer in the World more than once. According to Reuters, after the word got out, the Abbey started receiving 85,000 phone calls PER HOUR from people who hoped to reserve a case of its beer.

Since it is not meant to be sold in supermarkets, reserving a case of Westvleteren’s beer is a long, complicated process that involves calling the Abbey, making arrangements to pick up the beer, and then giving them the license plate of the car you’ll be driving that day. After you score your beer, both your phone number and your license plate are blocked from making another beer reservation for two months.

“The Trappist Westvleteren is for sale only for individuals […] It is stated on the receipt that you are not allowed to place the beer [for sale] on the market,” the Abbey warns. “We can speak to you about this.”

There’s a Dutch supermarket that probably needs a stern talking to.