Since I was in the neighbourhood...

On the current, and I hope temporary, schedules there's no evening flight to Dublin from Brussels. Since Schiphol essentially serves as one of the local Brussels airports, and has late departures, we figured we would come home that way. And why not add a day or two in the Dutch capital while we're here?

I celebrated my arrival into the Netherlands with... Hertog Jan Pilsner. I was thirsty and the selection in Albert Heijn wasn't very good, and I've never reviewed it before so here goes. It's 5.1% ABV giving it a slight edge on its arch-rival Heineken. The body is a pleasing rich golden colour with a perfect fine froth on top. Unsurprisingly it is plain drinking. There's nothing actually wrong with it -- maybe a hint of unwelcome warm fruitiness, but that's far from a spoiler in big-bodied pils. The hop element is mostly confined to the finish where it contributes a lightly dry grassiness to balance the golden syrup sweetness up front. For thirst-quenching, I think Grolsch has the edge on it among the mass-market Dutch lagers, but this absolutely works as a more considered sipper, at a rock bottom price too.

Looking for decent beer and outside seating without wandering too far, the first pub was the ever-reliable Arendsnest. I opted for one of the house beers under their Morebeer brand, Godless Eagle. This is a porter of 5% ABV and has an enticing aroma of sweet milk chocolate leading on to a matching creamy texture. I like porters which have that meadowy floral effect and this demonstrates it in the foretaste, alongside chocolate which begins sweet but turns more serious and roastily bitter as it goes. Balance is the key, and this beauty has it in spades.

That was enough to encourage the trying of another Morebeer product in the next round: Bijna Twintig. It's a big imperial stout, 11.9% ABV, and with an extremely floral aroma, like old-fashioned medicinal bath soap. The flavour is understated despite this, with mild coffee and chocolate alongside lavender and eucalyptus. This builds gradually but never quite reaches the intensity I would like from a stout of this strength. It's fine but I was after something more involved.

And that's what in the glass on the left of it: Curiosité No. 11 from Bronckhorster. 12.5% ABV of imperial stout, blended from beer aged in Amontillado and Laphroaig barrels. Like I say: involved. There's a gorgeous sweet and smoky aroma featuring all the peaty goodness of the whisky, backed by creamy chocolate. It was jarringly sweet to taste, however, starting out on burnt caramel and brown sugar before switching to bitter dark chocolate and acrid TCP. It's nearly brilliant but is missing any sense of subtlety, piling in too many contrasting flavours. There's a reason nobody makes peated Irish coffee: the elements would not work well together.

I was back at Arendsnest towards the end of the trip for more smoky fun. That opened with Smoking Pils from Uiltje. A clear gold colour it has a crisply smoky barbecue aroma and the rounded malt quality of the good stuff from Bamberg. Like those beers, the smoke is strongly prominent but not overdone and is entirely complementary to the base lager. A 25cl Dutch taster was completely inappropriate for a beer that would work brilliantly by the half litre, or bigger.

A smoked wheat beer finished these explorations: Jopen Rook Witte. This is no low-strength yellow grodziskie but 7% ABV and a hazy shade of orange. It smelled like a sweet weissbier with lots of cloves and candy, while the flavour brought bubblegum and mandarin segments. The smoke is almost missable and I had to go hunting to find it. How sad when a novelty beer loses its novelty. What remains is a decent but unexciting weizenbock: not what I was expecting but not unpleasant either.

At Arendsnest's faux-American sibling, BeerTemple, I opted for the Belgian Barleywine from North Carolina brewery Sugar Creek. This 10%-er is an odd orange-pink colour, looking like a particularly sticky and artificial soft drink. The aroma was nothing of the sort, however, wafting fresh and natural peach blossom and elderflower my way. The flavour is plainer, starting on sweet strawberry but with a balancing tart tang to clean that up. That's your lot, though. For a big strong beer it lacks complexity and, for a double-digit barley wine, it lacks warmth too. The thickness of the texture is no substitute. Another one for the fine-but-expected-better pile.

This crawl of classic central Amsterdam boozers heads to In de Wildeman next. The beers started with Leckere's Rising Sun, an IPA brewed with kumquat, as well as more prosaic ingredients such as Citra and Cascade. It's a summer seasonal, as evidenced by a light 5.1% ABV and perhaps also the clear yellow appearance. A dank aroma makes it obvious that Citra is in charge, and it provides a resinous finish to the flavour too. Before that, it's bright and zesty, with the kumquats pulling their weight, joined by a spicy bergamot quality from somewhere. There's no aftertaste and the whole thing gives enough of an impression of orangeade to be pleasingly summery, which I'm sure was the intention.

On a second visit to Wildeman I had a look through the German lager menu and picked Sternla from Bamberg maestros Keesman. This 5%-er is no specific style but a dark honey colour and is lager-crisp with plenty of noble green spices and a roasted edge. The texture is huge, chewy and wholesome, all of which adds up to something resembling those unpleasantly intense medium-dark bocks, but much gentler on my sensitive palate. This is only my second ever Keesman beer, after the mighty mighty Herren Pils, and while it's not up to that celestial standard, it shows the same level of expertise.

Naturally, a visit to Gollem was fitted in, and a hasty session IPA on the mezzanine, from Jopen and called Let There Be Light: barely-there at 3.3% ABV. We go zesty again with a buzz of sherbet lemon aroma from the hazy yellow glassful. There's a good Belgian-style body with no wateriness, though still easy-drinking and thirst-quenching. An impressively complex flavour includes bitter lemon, meadowy wildflowers, mixed leafy herbs and a chalky minerality. I get a classy grisette vibe from it, making it more enjoyable than many a so-called session IPA.

I made just one call on the sour beer specialists Nevel, with Dwaal, ostensibly a witbier but with a sour culture, Szechuan pepper and common hogweed seeds. It looks like a wit, just maybe a little darker and clearer than usual. You can't really taste the hogweed. Well I couldn't, though maybe that's because I don't know what hogweed seeds are supposed to taste like. At 5% ABV it's light bodied and makes for refreshingly easy drinking, as should be the norm for witbier. The sour culture makes a big difference and really helps it along, adding a peachy and earthy funk while retaining an overall light zesty zing. Brettanomyces isn't named but its fingerprints are on the flavour. The peppers don't get much of a say, unfortunately, confined to a very mild peppery aftertaste but without much heat or spice to go with it. Overall it's fun and interesting, and very much in keeping with Nevel's funky way of doing things.

On to new business and I dropped in briefly to Café 't Monumentje, a charmingly unkempt corner bar in the Jordaan, a part of Amsterdam I've never explored properly. It was back to the stout for me, and one from Amsterdam's own Oedipus, their Kinderyoga. Doubtless thanks to The Unpleasantness the bottle was 18 months old and I'm sure that helped the taste. Said taste is of dark sticky treacle and espresso coffee with a spirituous Irish-coffee finish, dusted with chewy liquorice, floral jasmine and honeysuckle. Each element dovetails neatly with the next, creating an integrated whole, complex without being any way difficult, even at 11% ABV. Textbook stuff and highly recommended.

Finally for today, we had dinner at Het Lagerhuys, a city centre restaurant where the beer and food pairing is taken very seriously. A little too seriously, to be honest: I'm sceptical of the whole concept and would rather order what I want rather than evaluate the pairing recommendations of my waiter, but he was only being helpful and I'm sure plenty of customers find it useful. Anyway, the food was good and the beer list rivalled that of BeerTemple for international interest.

My starting beer was London Thunder, another porter, this time from actual England, though Roosters in Yorkshire, not That London. It's a mere 4% ABV and shows a straight-up burnt-toast roasted aroma leading on to a bitter chocolate foretaste which is verging on acrid. But then it finshes indecently quickly, leaving a slight sourness behind. It's not bad but would be quite sharp for pint drinking. It certainly doesn't compare well with the lovely Morebeer porter above. More creaminess is required.

To Maine for the beer next to it, looking identical: Big Bright Lights by Mast Landing. It's anything but bright; a dense obsidian-black and 10.5% ABV. A serious liquorice aroma is how it introduces itself though the taste is more welcoming: a civilised teatime treat of almonds and brown sugar. As the alcohol unfolds that turns to Amaretto, seasoned with herbal red vermouth. It's beautifully mellow and lovely to sip. This is why I'm unconvinced that pairing with food matters: something this good is enjoyable regardless of what's on the plate.

Round two stayed on the dark side, this time with a Baltic porter called Blackheart from Birrificio dell'Aspide in Campania. It's a little low in strength for the style, being 6.6% ABV but still has plenty of character. There's a touch of bitumen in the roasty aroma, while the flavour goes big on chocolate, adding nougat and hazelnut to that, and a spritz of raspberry. It finishes clean, but only just, and I got much more of a sense of warm-fermented extra stout from it, than cool-fermented Baltic porter. Nevertheless it's tasty, if just a smidge sweet for how I think the style should work.

Finally, going big before going home, Weekend by Prairie Artisan Ales in Oklahoma, a decadent beast of a pastry stout: 13.3% ABV. It is extremely thick and extremely sweet, smelling of pink marshmallows and tasting of the not-quite-custard that fills custard donuts. Add some cherry liqueur and a big slice of gooey fudge cake to that and you have something that doesn't really resemble beer any more. You have to be in the mood for a concoction like this. I approached it with the sense of daftness it deserves and had a good time as a result. The mind boggles at the thought of producing a serious food pairing for it, but doubtless our helpful waiter could have advised.

That's it for today. In Friday's post I'll be visiting a brewery, and maybe two.

De Lux beers

The summer floods in Wallonia meant that a jaunt from Brussels to Luxembourg became more of a schlep than was intended but I made the trip down to the Grand Duchy anyway. I was last here in 2007 and wanted to see how the beer scene had changed in the intervening years.

Not hugely, is the answer. The roost is still ruled by Brasserie Nationale and its Battin and Bofferding flagships.

Their range is quite French in its limited set of clearly-defined styles, and I took an early punt on Battin Blanche with lunch. Though only 4.8% ABV it's quite a full-bodied witbier, and sweet with that: vanilla mixing with the herbal aroma. The texture is beautifully fluffy but the flavour is basic, offering mild lemon zest and a slightly sulphurous spicing, all finishing very quickly. Nothing spectacular, though the mouthfeel alone makes it worthwhile.

I figured Battin Brune would be similarly average but was surprised by how much was going on here. There's lots of sticky caramel plus the booze heat and bourbon biscuits of a German doppelbock, and just as clean. That it's 7.2% ABV was a surprise and it wears it well, taking full advantage of the weight to deliver flavour complexity. The carbonation level is low to aid sipping and there's a lovely dry and burnt finish to complement the initial sweetness. Every macrobrewer should have something like this on their books.

The set closes with another strong one: Battin Triple. This is a lager-looking chap, clear and golden, and there's an odd skunkiness in the aroma which says green-glass pilsner more than monastic rocket fuel to me. That may just have been a feature of the yeast spicing as it's bang-on style to taste. There's a beautifully clean stonefruit foretaste, brimming with lychee, pear and white plum. Any sugary residue is swept aside by a tannic dryness, making this 8%-er almost as refreshing as a glass of iced tea. My glassful was around long enough to let it warm a little and I started to get a touch of typically-tripel heat, but warming and comforting, never unpleasantly hot; sweet without cloying. This is a lovely expression of the style. It's processed and polished (though bottle fermented, says the label) and that might be a problem for some, but I liked how distinctly pronounced the flavours are. This would be a regular for me if my local supermarket stocked it.

I saw Nationale's upmarket Funck-Bricher Blonde on a few menus during the day and picked up a bottle at Delhaize on my way out. A blonde ale of 5.5% ABV, it's pale and crystal clear in the glass, looking like a pilsner and smelling quite like one too, with a lot of weedpatch noble hops in the north-German style. That becomes a dry and rotted mustiness on tasting, something I've encountered many times before and put down to my personal flavour receptors and not any flaw in the beer. There's a sweet malt base behind it, an oat-cookie effect, mixing sweet and dry. The overall impression I get is of a heavy German bock, which I suppose is what I should have been expecting from Luxembourg's national brewery rather than a floral English-style blonde, but them's the breaks. I pass and move on. 

Specialist beer bars are thin on the ground, but one place with a decent sized menu is the corner café-turned-rockbar Rock Solid. I picked Echternacher Hellen hoping for something stolidly Germanic but got quite a rough lager, grainy and hazy like you might find in a German brewpub. The grassy aroma is pleasant and there's a lacing of black pepper which I enjoyed, but beyond that it's overly sweet with too much butter character. Points for effort but few for execution.

Same style, different brewery: Heischter Helle is also hazy. My notes mention Sorachi Ace and I can't remember if that's stated on the label or is guesswork on my part, but there's lots of coconut in the flavour and a pithy lemon aroma which indicates it's accurate. This is clean and decent fare; not a typical or classic Helles but still very enjoyable.

Across the dinky old city, just beyond the palace walls, is The Tube: definitely a continental café but putting on English airs. Here I got my single taste of Luxembourgian IPA, courtesy of STUFF Brauerei. Revolutioun is 6.3% ABV and pale orange with a slight misting. It delivers an old fashioned west coast dankness in the aroma, plus an earthiness that says Cascade hops to me. The flavour is a strange combination of coconut, watermelon and grapefruit; tropical but bitter at the same time. The haze makes it a little dirty but the hop flavours remain clear and distinct despite this. It's unusual and I couldn't fit it into any existing IPA sub-genre but it is tasty regardless.

Given the location, a beer called Grande Ducale couldn't be passed up. It's another one from STUFF and is an ambreé, I guess in the French style. That said it tasted more like a dark German bock to me: grassy in the aroma with oddles of caramel and biscuit to taste. There's a slightly vegetal sharpness to counteract that, grass again and some peppery rocket. I guess it's well made but isn't really to my taste.

Free public transport is one of the wonders of Luxembourg and I did my best to rip the arse out of that in the short time I was there, scooting back and forth on the tram as pub opening hours dictated. In the new city, behind the station, is Craft Corner which I think may be the only modern-style craft beer bar in town. It's also home to the Bouneweger brewery, though I couldn't see any of the production equipment, something which always leaves me a bit suspicious.

Anyway, there was just one Bouneweger beer on the blackboard: Sour Series 2021: Apricot. This 5%-er smells of sorbet: cold and intensely fruity. The flavour really lays on the juicy apricot but there's plenty of tartness to balance it. I found a gose-like salt quality as well. Though a little strong it is supremely refreshing, absolutely brimming with zing. I could easily have quaffed several more.

From the extensive guest offerings, herself picked one from Sweden's Brewski: their Chocolate, Strawberry, Pear, Vanilla Cake. Like the name, it's a mouthful: 12.3% ABV and very heavy with it, smelling of rich chocolate and boozy liqueur. The pear is a clever addition, adding a tart crispness to the cakeyness without which I suspect it would be a bit of a hot and sticky mess. I can't say I was able to detect any strawberry, though. As big pastry stouts go, this is one of the better ones, and props to the brewery who named it for telling us up front what it is.

And that was Luxembourg done. It was interesting how the beer culture has drawn on all three neighbouring countries, as well as the now-generic international craft scene. I would definintely be up for exploring the country properly some time. For now, though, I had other places to be...

Comings and goings

Beer one of my recent trip to Brussels was on Grande Place at the new outlet for the Caulier beer brand. It also owns the Toccalmatto brewery in Italy and a few of theirs feature on the menu. I opted for Dr Caligari, an overclocked raspberry Berliner weisse of 6.3% ABV. It's definitely pink and has a huge and sweet aroma of all kinds of summer berries: strawberry first, then all those raspberries, and a kick of cherry to finish. It's not jammy, thankfully, but the downside is that it's quite thin: unforgiveable at the strength. The sourness is too restrained for my liking also. After the initial fruity euphoria I grew increasingly disappointed with it, dismissing it as too much of an alcopop by the end. Such is life with my fickle palate. What's next?

Another brewery? The Wolf foodhall had recently opened when I visited in January 2020, and the handsome brewery out back, Flow, was not yet functional. It has since come up to speed and there are three house beers on the menu but only one was available when I swung by in August. That was Bright White, a witbier. I wanted to like it but it's not a great example, being heavy and a little soapy, lacking spices and flowers. The aroma is bang on, and its best feature: brimming with fresh lemon zest and wholegrain bread. After the lacklustre foretaste, however, there's an abrupt finish. Oh well. Wolf is a superb addition to the foodie scene in central Brussels and I will definitely be back as soon as I can to try more of the food offer and my luck with the other Flow beers.

Speaking of food, I mentioned on Monday that a visit was paid to beery restaurant Nüetnigenough. They've always had a strong presence from Alvinne on the menu, and one of them is now a house beer. Nu 't is Genoeg is their Mano Negra imperial stout which has been aged in port barrels though is still 10% ABV. Alvinne's beers tend to be very dry but this one had an excellent richness, tasting of churro sauce and coconut. There's more chocolate in the aroma, as well as a hint of sour wine. That and a tannic finish are the only contributions I could detect from the port, but it's a fine beer, offering a perfect balance of dark and sumptuous decadence with a delicate balance of complementary characteristics. And goes great with the bloempanch starter.

I couldn't go past the collaboration Alvinne did with De Molen, not least because of the name: Aeolus & Morpheus. It was brewed as a one-off for Borefts 2018 and I guess is still knocking around. They describe it as a "funky imperial stout" and it's another 10%-er. It's a very Alvinne sort of aroma: the dry, musty quality of Morpheus the house yeast blend. And it is super attenuated with no sugar left, or body for that matter. What remains is an oaky, corky funk and the spiced grape of red vermouth. It was a shock at first but I settled into it. The cocoa quality of a big De Molen imperial stout is still detectable, even after Morpheus has picked it clean. Not an easy beer, but I knew that would be the case when I went in.

Last year I gave some low marks to the St-Louis gueze Fond Tradition. This year I figured I may as well be hung for a kriek as a geuze, so here's Fond Tradition Kriek, bearing a new and classy minimalist label which hopefully fools no one. OG FT's MO was its lack of sweetness, allowing for a pleasing tart acidity to be enjoyed even when there's no proper oude geuze complexity. This is definitely sweeter, but not completely sugared up. A couple of extra years of ageing and 6.5% ABV have put a few extra euros on the price tag but I think this stands to it. It's no multidimensional flavourbomb but has a pleasing mellowness next to rounded cherry fruit and a light tartness. While it's enjoyable, and represents a useful halfway point between the syrupy stuff and fully aged kriek, it wears the pricetag of the latter and I can't help but think you get a much better bang for your buck with Boon's Oude Kriek offerings. It's nice to have tried it but I'm in no rush back.

When it comes to the mass-market dark sour styles of Belgium, I tend to be a Flemish red man more than an oude bruin one. That said, I gave Ichtegem's Oud Bruin a spin, despite not having enjoyed the Flemish Red on a previous occasion. Surprise: it was tasty. Despite being 5.5% ABV and highly attenuated there was plenty of body, giving it an almost creamy feel. The flavours were gentle and rounded to match this; no acidic sharp edges. I got cherry most prominently with some exotic tamarind and date. Oude bruin can have a tendency to taste like watered-down HP Sauce, but this one showed lots of positive Flemish red vibes, and if that means it's not to style I don't care, I'll take it.

Everything is a brand extension these days. De Poes was a single blonde ale when I had it in 2017; now it's a full range, from which I tried the Bruin this time. All of 8.5% ABV, it had me expecting big and rich caramel and chocolate notes but turned out to be thin and a little acrid. There's a lot of very dry roast in both the aroma and the foretaste, tongue-scraping in a not so pleasant way. Before finishing there's a sudden and dramatic volte-face, bringing in an almost cloying cola sweetness. The combination didn't work for me at all. 

If there's one brand extension I am absolutely on board for, it's Les Musketeers' Troubadour Magma. Indian Summer is a lighter version of the sainted double IPA, landing at only 6.5% ABV, down from the regular 9%. It looks the same: a deep orange glow. The aroma offers nondescript citrus and a few Belgian esters for the sake of it -- but nothing spectacular. The old Magma charm comes though on tasting, however: fresh peach and mandarin with highlights of passionfruit and mango. It does lack the heft, though. One of Magma's cunning tricks is how it leverages the alcohol to enhance the hop flavour without turning the beer itself hot. This version has a certain thinness about it that feels somewhat compromised. I would be wowed by the hoppy freshness and complementary Belgian character if it had any other name, but its citing of Magma leaves it open to accusations of not being proper Magma, which it's not. Stick with the original is my advice.

With Brussels Central as our nearest station we almost went to BrewDog Brussels a couple of times, only finally succumbing towards the end of the stay. What got me in was a showcase of a new brewer, Brasserie à Roulettes. It's based in Ellezelles and makes an IPA which puns on the name: Hell's Ale. This is a medium 5.5% ABV and a medium orange colour. It's a little juicy and a little savoury -- mandarin up front and caraway later. There's a touch of farmhouse spicing for extra complexity, but not much. It's interesting but no great shakes. I'd be happy if I brewed it, if that's not too much damnation by faint praise.

Also on tap, and at the same strength, was Comtes de Walhain pale ale. This one is a clear yellow colour with a proper west-coast aroma of citrus and dank. A peachy foretaste leads through to golden delicious apples with pear and lychee, and then a harder waxy bitterness in the finish. While this is another understated beer, I really liked the clean distinctness of its flavour elements. This one is definitely built for pinting.

Across the table was Ram Raid sour stout from Legitimate Industries in Leeds. At 11.6% ABV and... challenging... this is much more a festival beer than a pub one. The aroma is a sharp blend of bitter cocoa and bitter cherry. The texture is surprisingly creamy: I was expecting Alvinne-dry. There's more of that cherry in the taste and lots of dark chocolate plus a very mild tartness. The combination of silky and funky is an odd one, but it works. While strictly a sipper, it's great fun. I didn't realise how much I had missed daft geek-bait like this.

This leg of the trip ends, appropriately, on Swansong, a triple IPA from Siphon. A dark and hazy orange colour, it smells like double IPA used to: heavy and resinous, promising a beery napalm that will kill your sensory faculties. Though 10% ABV it wasn't as hot as I expected, nor as fruity. There's an odd, earthy, mushroom quality, and none of the palate-coating sugar and oil I was anticipating. While not wrong or off, it didn't land right for me. Them's the breaks.

That's as far as we explored in Belgium. Next up we head south to experience quite a different beer culture in a neighbouring country.

See how they brew

A full 15-beer travel post covering only two breweries? It's fair to say they've both been busy. An early presence on the new Brussels brewing scene has meant Brussels Beer Project and Brasserie de la Senne are now sizeable operations, and that's very obvious from the selection visible in bars and shops. Their bottles and their branding are everywhere -- a heartening sight for anyone whose own local breweries are struggling hard to find a foothold among the multinational giants. It can be done.

The new Brussels Beer Project brewery is still under construction but even before that comes on stream the range is significant. Here's what I got through, following a little supermarket browsing and a sweep of the shelves in the taproom shop.

Wedding Season is not a saison but something called a "fruit salad sour" at 3.8% ABV. It's quite a salad too: pear, blueberry, blackberry and raspberry are joined by rosemary, sage and thyme. The end result is cocktail-pink and smells quite herbal but not of anything distinctive. The sage flexes its oiled muscles in the foretaste: it's very sage, with the rosemary also running loudly alongside bringing a savoury Sunday-roast aspect to an otherwise light and easy beer. The berry subtleties get lost under that, and there's merely a light tartness in the finish which could equally be the fruit or the sour culture. The berry flavours themselves only emerge when it has warmed up a little, and this is very much designed to be quaffed cold. I like herby beers so it suited me enormously. I can see how others might have an issue with it, however.

BBP cans are new (for me), and first up it's Now or Never, a 4.3% ABV "Belgian session IPA" -- a style designation I would deride were it not from an actual Belgian brewer. It looks like a witbier, being a pale yellowish green in the glass with a fine white froth on top. Pith and peel is the long and short of the aroma; they don't tell us what hops are used, just that there are "loads" of varieties and all Belgian. Fair enough. A twist of lemon rind and a shaving of coconut is what I get in the flavour, creating a kind of cocktail effect, and similarly medium sweet and very easy to drink. A texture which is light without being thin helps it slip back very easily. This is another very decently constructed beer, simple but flavoursome. There's nothing explicitly Belgian about the taste, but then redefining what "Belgian" means for beer is one of the project's stated aims.

You can see that slogan -- "Leave the abbey, join the playground" -- at work in the next one. Lime Crime purports to be a lime meringue pale ale. It's easy to set expectations when the customer has no idea how that should taste. The answer turns out to be: rather good. It's 4.7% ABV, hopped with Centennial and Columbus, plus added lime and lemon zest with vanilla. That seems like it'll be a mostly sweet fellow, but while it's another smooth one, it's not really sweet. The surprise first flavour is a nutmeg or peppercorn piquancy which dries it all out before the vanilla essence gets to work. There's a mild tang of citrus on the end and I don't know if that's enough to placate the drinkers who wanted big zest from this; I thought it all worked very harmoniously. It doesn't taste like a dessert or any other sort of novelty, just a pleasingly spicy pale ale.

Doubling down on the novelty is Petite Pépite, a habaneros gose. This one tastes of lime, with lots of salty margarita vibes alongside. I looked hard for the chilli but couldn't find any, though there's a clean, green, watermelon rind quality in the mix late on. Halfway down I noticed a certain, subtle, waxy dryness, which might be chilli-derived, but it may as well not be there. This is a beer for the sourness and the citricity, and that's fine. I've tasted many like it and, at 4.8% ABV, this one is basic quaffable fun with a modest amount of daftness involved.

They have embraced the haze at Brussels Beer Project, and I don't know how that flies with the normal Belgian beer-drinking public but if Juice Junkie is anything to go by they have absolutely nailed it. This is a New England IPA of 5.4% ABV, a bright sunshine yellow in the glass and a marvellous tropical fruit mix in the flavours. Lychee and passionfruit start us off, turning towards even softer cantaloupe and honeydew. With the juice levels in danger of going off the charts it reins things in a little in the finish where it turns slightly danker and bitterer, with a hint of fried onion at the very end. The texture is only a little fluffy and it remains drinkable and preposterously refreshing. A power combination of Citra, Simcoe, Nelson Sauvin and (I'm guessing lots of) Mosaic was how it's achieved, along with Belgian ale yeast S33. I give you this detail in the hope your brewery tries something similar.

Before you ask, yes, I did occasionally leave the hotel room to drink beer. Down on Boulevard Anspach, just opposite the Bourse and six storeys above the Delhaize cornershop there's a seasonal rooftop bar called Le Jardin. It's plainly designed for the late-night party crowd but it opens in the afternoon and it was fun to enjoy the views over Brussels in the quiet daytime.

They have a few BBP beers on offer, including Wunder Lager, a 3.8% ABV highly-hopped job. Even for the strength it's very pale with a very slight haze. And it lives up to its name, with a gorgeous bright and zesty hop character set on a light and crisp base. Very moreish and sublimely refreshing. There's a touch of witbier about the way it's constructed, minus any soapy characteristics, and it works far better than any so-called India pale lager I can think of. Beers like this should be much more commonplace.

It was Belgium Beer Week and a few venues had put on special events. At the BBP taproom on Rue Dansaert that involved putting a selection of their wild-fermented beers on the rotating taps. That sounded like my sort of thing so I went along for a nosy.

The first I tried was Nue, a saison with added yuzu, dry-hopped and Burgundy barrel-aged. It's another hazy yellow one with a fabulous aroma of lychee and capgun smoke. It tastes of 7-Up first: all syrupy lemon and lime. An oily rosemary bitterness adds a grown-up side, finishing on a peppery note which is the only nod towards classic Belgian saison. Overall it's a bit of fun; a novelty act rather than a serious connoisseur's serious mixed-fermentation beer. I had a lot of time for what it does, though.

A serious connoisseur might go for something with a gatekeepy name like MXD 692 next. I did too. This is a pale ale with the same mixed fermentation culture and is another clear golden one. There's a happy mix of funk and fruit in the aroma here: ripe plums and apricots in a mucky farmyard on a cold morning. Phwoar! Though only 5% ABV it has a very thick and gummy texture. That keeps the flavours intense as they bring an interplay of very dry and very sweet; sweaty woolly horse blanket see-sawing with luscious peach, plus a lacing of fungus and umami. "Very interesting, " I've written, then "grapefruit on toast" before I ran out of page. I think I liked it.

My one for the road here was Foeder Pils, once again looking identical to its shipmates. The aroma is nothing special here: a perfectly pils-y lemongrass effect. The mixed fermentation side is subtle. It's only 4.5% ABV and the immediate impression is of something light and clean. I caught a wisp of chamomile tea, elderflower and lychee. None of this changes its clean lager nature while still making use of the advanced flavour effects from the wild yeast. It's a very neat trick.

Suffice it to say I came away a big fan of Brussels Beer Project's Bretty efforts and I commend them to you.

One last beer before we leave them. Minotaur is a Flemish red which has served three years in a wine barrel and smells like a mince pie. The flavour retains the zingy summer berry effect which, for me, is the whole point of the style, and then there's a richer depth behind it, offering chocolate, perfume and spices. Labyrinthine? Not quite, but there's bags of complexity and, at 8.6% ABV, it rewards slow sipping. A suitable bookend to my exploration of the Project's beers. There were plenty more around but I think I've done OK with this brief snapshot, for now.

Not far from where Brussels Beer Project is adding the finishing touches to its new production brewery, its arch rival Brasserie de la Senne has already moved into its new home and thrown the doors open to drinkers. This canalside dockland redevelopment zone to the north of the city is in its early stages and most of what surrounds the brewery is still waste ground. It will be interesting to see that change over the coming years. The taproom itself is a spacious glass and concrete affair and there's lots of well shaded outside space too.

After trekking up there on foot on a warm afternoon, my first beer was Zenne Pils and I was overjoyed that it's available in a very unBelgian half-litre serve for a very uncraft €4 a throw. And throw I did. This is gloriously sinkable stuff. It's crisp as the day is long with only a little hazy fuzziness. A base of snappy waterbiscuit gets a layer of nettles and rocket in near-perfect imitation of classic German pils, including the creamy smooth texture. I really didn't expect de la Senne to be in this game at all but I'm very glad they are. Flood the bars with pints of this, please.

Something more in line with expectations was Bruxellensis Reserva, a wine-barrel-aged version of their Brettanomyces pale ale. It's still the same 6.5% ABV, mind, pouring a coppery pink shade. There's a very sharp and funky aroma -- back in the farmyard but this time with a jug of balsamic vinegar. The flavour is dry first, with an unsubtle splintery oak. It softens soon after to red grape, and all of it backed by a loud and stereotypical Brett funk. It's a bit busy overall and I think it might benefit from some ageing. But if funky Brett is your thang it's just the ticket.

Another barrel-aged Flemish red next: Ouden Vat. This is 6.7% ABV and a dark and brooding murky red colour. There's a fruity yet savoury quality to the aroma: tamarind, garlic and black pepper, like an exotic marinade. A slick and greasy texture leads us to a mellow flavour with notes of spicy incense and sweet black cherry. I tend to prefer this style to be fresh and light and brisk, but if you are going to go the opposite way, this is exactly how to do it, with no cloying sugars and all the spices.

Newly arrived on the bar was Saison de la Senne. They had brewed a light saison with this name several years ago but this seemed different: stronger and (big surprise) barrel aged. It goes heavy on spices, with quite a lambic-like gunpowder effect, plus added lemon zest, juicy grape, farmyard funk and stonefruit. In short it's all of the barrel and Brett goodness you could want, in a 6% ABV package and an unpretentious 330ml bottle. I love these sorts of barrel-aged saisons and this is one of the best examples I've encountered. The name looks quite flagshippy so I hope it goes far and wide. Edit: thanks to Eoghan Walsh for pointing out to me that the lambic-like barrel-aged quality comes from the fact this is blended with beer from Cantillon. That'll do it all right.

That was it for my visit though I do have one other beer to report from them: Schieven Enthusiasm. I'm not at all used to de la Senne beers at double-figure ABVs but this "barrel aged double farmhouse ale", if that means anything to you, is 10% ABV. I certainly didn't know what to expect. It's blonde and hazy like a saison but with a very active carbonation, threatening to escape the bottle between cap-pull and glass-pour. The aroma is on the sour end of farmhouse, with elements of vinegar amongst the earthy spices. The flavour is based on classic Belgian blonde elements; there's a core which echoes Duvel and La Chouffe Blond in particular: the honey base with peppery sparks on top. Overlaying that is the tartness. It doesn't automatically say barrels to me, but if I had to guess I would say they were ex-wine. The tang of a flinty white is in the topnotes here. The finish is a clean warming buzz, blending the comfy alcoholic depths of a well-made strong blonde beer with a sharp-edges crispness. This fellow was full of surprises: finely-honed for an overclocked saison and bitingly sharp for a big blonde ale. I enjoyed the journey it brought me on even when I was by no means sure of the destination.

And that's all I have to tell you about today. I am certain there are those who complain about the ubiquity of these two breweries in Brussels, especially as there are so many younger and smaller operations trying to make themselves seen. The sheer quality of the output from Brussels Beer Project and Brasserie de la Senne is something to aspire to, however. I felt that the city's beer is in safe hands.

One more blog post from Brussels, coming your way, next.

On the move again

With European travel back on the agenda from July I thought it would be nice to break the long fast with a trip to Brussels. There's a symmetry in how it was the last place I came back from, pre-pandemic, and the Belgians seemed to have a decent handle on the whole re-opening of society business. What provided the nucleation point was the announcement of the BXL Beer Festival in late August. Tickets were bought, flights were booked, and then the festival was postponed for another year. Ah well. The trip was still very much on.

The Brussels of The New Normal was a little strange, but mostly pleasantly so. Grand Place minus the troupes of coach parties was more enjoyable; that every pub on my favourite crawl down Marché des Herbes was still closed, less so. But I made do.

An early excursion was to the 3 Fonteinen Lambik-o-Droom which has done a great job of utilising its outdoor space. First call was Cuvée Armand & Gaston, batch 4 of the 19|20 vintage. Not that the fine detail is of interest to anyone but the most committed lambic bore. It's still a cracking beer: 7% ABV and heavily textured, served surprisingly warm. There's tonnes of spice, of the gunpowder variety in particular, finishing crisp with a hint of citrus zest. That it's high strength, powerfully flavoured and extremely sour, yet remains so easy to drink, is all part of what one comes to 3 Fonteinen for.

I also came for the Oude Kriek because I don't think I've had it before (no. 9 of 19|20, if you must know). At the beginning it's deliciously sharp in a way that's more to do with real cherries than spontaneous fermentation, I thought. There's sweeter cherry in the aftertaste and that's where I felt a little let down by a lack of lambic character. The fruit is a bit overdone for me, though its freshness, especially in the aroma, has a definite charm. I suspect they intend this for long ageing to allow the bugs to get to work more thoroughly. I have no regrets about cutting short the lifespan of my bottle, however.

A few days later it was off to Cantillon for some more big bottles. This was the first time I had visited the spacious new upstairs bar, at least in its current form. I always enjoyed drinking downstairs but didn't miss the standing around awkwardly waiting for a seat.

Cantillon has gone in for grapes in a big way, and a very high proportion of what was available was grape-infused. I am a huge fan of the brewery's beers and of grapes in sour beer, but even I thought this was overkill. The brewery seems to have decided that 6.5% is the correct ABV for these.

The first I tried was Carignan. It's a red grape so the beer is deep red, though hazy with it. There's nothing fruity about the sharp and spicy lambic aroma; you have to wait for the foretaste for that. Juicy plump raisins is the initial effect, turning to mature Madeira wine and cheeky kirsch liqueur. Despite looking young, it tastes wonderfully mature and smooth.

Switching to white, Le Plaisir is next: this one a clear golden colour. It's a bit plain, all told. There's a mild floral perfume followed by a hard burn in the throat on sipping. It needed a little time to warm up before the long finish of Sauternes or Tokaji arrived -- that sort of honey quality. It's a Cantillon beer and of Cantillon quality, but not among their best work. That's surprising because back when they only had two grape lambics in the range, the white one was definitely my preference. Perhaps I simply chose unwisely from what was on offer.

There was one draught beer of interest: Camerisse, and hallelujah it's not a grape one. This uses honeyberry, the fruit of the honeysuckle, and was brewed originally for their Zwanze event last year. From the keg it's a deep purple colour and smells very... complex. I got violets, bergamot, aniseed and rotting vegetables but, y'know, in a good way. The taste is rather more coherent but no less multifaceted, having rosewater, Turkish delight and blueberry first, then finishing with a touch of ripe and squashy raspberry. There's a lot to take in, and I can see how you would design something like this for a special sippers' event. It was really enjoyable, though.

Only three beers but I felt Cantillon was done justice.

From Brussels's oldest extant brewery to its newest, or at least the newest taproom. Brasserie Mule had opened to the drinking public for the first time on the day we dropped by. By good luck or smart planning, most of the space is outside, next to a bar area that's sparsely furnished, but then it was only day one.

There's a lean towards German styles at Mule, and the run-through opened with two Kölsch. Mule Kölsch presents hazy, with a slightly estery aroma which didn't put it in my good books from the start. Crispness is present and correct in the taste, however, from the beginning and all the way through. I got a hint of peach and lavender with that, but it's otherwise clean. The classic Cologne smoothness is missing, but this is still a very decent take on blonde ale.

Then Kölsch Inna Jungle is a collaboration with another new Brussels brewery, La Jungle. There was basically no information on the beers available but I'm pretty sure the difference here is that it's been dry-hopped. Unlike the previous one it's clear and this time the disconcerting start is from a weird green onion aroma. This transmutes into a seriously resinous flavour, almost suggesting west coast IPA more than Kölsch. Though only 5% ABV it's heavy and a little sickly. If this was an experiment I don't think it's worth repeating.

The next pair to the table were weissbier -- strange to drink from a small glass but when in Belgium... Mule Hefe Weisse is a very dark orange colour with a strong and not unpleasant green-banana aroma. The flavour gives us lots of flowery perfume and a considerable bitterness before a sweeter hard-candy finish. Again, though modestly strong at 5.4% ABV it carries a lot of weight. I liked its hefty and wholesome rustic vibe.

Mule Hopfen Weisse looks pretty similar but is a different beast at 8% ABV. It doesn't taste it, though. Its flavour is actually a little plainer than the above but makes great use of new world hops to impart a spiky bitterness.The aroma is peppery, with a leafy dank side. We've lost the basic characteristics of weissbier here, but I like what they've been replaced with. While delivering plenty of boozy poke it's light and clean and daftly drinkable -- a successful nod to the Brooklyn/Schneider originator of the hopfenweisse style.

There had to be one Belgian style here and it came in the form of Straight Saison, a straight saison with a straight name. Not so straight in reality, though. The haze was a little thicker than I like for saison, while the flavour was a bit of a homebrew mess of banana esters and an overdone black pepper spice. There's no clean crispness here, which I deem a fatal error for a saison, even at the lofty heights of 6% ABV.

Finally, the inevitable pale ale, named Steuun. This, at least, was crisp, but in a very plain and lager-like way. The only real character I found was an estery quality which was present in all the beers to a greater or lesser extent. One could call it a house style, but it's a fine line between that and sameyness. I suspect the brewery's heart isn't really in pale ale as this had a feel of tokenism about it, like they had to have one in the line-up.

It will be interesting to watch how Mule evolves. I hope they stick to brewing what they like, rather than acceding to the dull demands of generic taproom culture.

Taprooms and lambic-o-droomen aside, the Brussels brewery scene is absolutely booming at the moment, coming from a point of near-zero a decade ago. I noticed a new tendency in several bars to skew local, preferring the city's breweries to the more well-known Belgian brands, which is of course how it should be. I'll finish on a handful of beers from Brussels breweries I didn't visit.

At top nosh shop Nüetnigenough they had the misfortune of having to unwillingly cellar a new canned house beer which was ready just as they had to close the doors in early 2020. Luckily it's a monster whiskey-aged barley wine so no harm was likely to come of it. Olifant was brewed by La Source and is 14% ABV. It presents the innocent hazy orange colour of a fruited sour ale but goes to work on the other senses with a jackhammer, beginning with a powerful sickly-sweet vanilla aroma. Tasting continues the theme, bringing boiled sweets, dessicated coconut, a strange dark-malt roast and lots and lots of booze. Add in the sharp lime sourness and you get something that really isn't for me but is ideal for anyone who has found their senses dulled by the virus. Subtle as the name implies, this one.

Moeder Lambic Fontainas was also on the "Wahey! Brussels!" pilgrimage route, another venue that has expanded its outdoor offer into any space available. There I had Vipere, also from La Source, a sour IPA. This is quite a bit stronger than I usually prefer, at 6.5% ABV, but still manages to hit the style points well. It's a bright hazy yellow colour with lots of lemon zest in the aroma and bags of spritz in the flavour. I got sherbet lemon sweets at the front, finishing on bathroom-cabinet lavender. It's perhaps more bitter than sour but there's plenty of both, making for super-refreshing beer with a fun dash of silliness. Yes it could have probably been done just as well at 4% ABV but it's nice to let oneself go sometimes.

Rumours of Gist's demise seem to be premature. The pub appears to be tipping along under new management and it was great to meet Eoghan Walsh for a couple of swift ones in there. I don't know if Epervier is meant to relate to Vipere in any way, but it's another La Source IPA, though not sour. Far from it, in fact: this is funky and dank, mixing the hop resins with burnt brown sugar in a very old fashioned west coast way. It's extreme, and challenging, but still highly enjoyable to drink. One for the grown-ups only.

Gist was also pouring Jawa, an IPA from La Source's neighbours, En Stoemelings. This is another west coast job, but altogether cleaner and more easy-going. Though the aroma is sweet, it's crisply bitter with classic grapefruit notes. Complexity takes a back seat, leaving something simple and very decent. Perfect conversation beer, at a modest-for-Belgium 6.5% ABV.

That concludes our initial go-around. The next post will take a look at the big guns of the new Brussels brewery scene, both of them working very hard at maintaining their presence in the city.