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.