The usuals

Bear with me as I drag you to a few of my regular haunts in Brussels. All roads lead to Cantillon of course, where the roofspace renovation was in full swing, though with no impact on the first floor bar. It was serving Grenache on draught, a deep red number served quite warm and tasting exceedingly fruitsome, of sweet fresh cherries in syrup more than actual grapes. That heavy boldness reminded me of something and it took a bit of delving before I figured out that this tastes of the sort of blousey new-world Cabernet Sauvignon that someone might have enthused over if, say, they were discovering wine via the selection in Superquinn in the early 2000s. Yeah, like that.

Such a person may have grown up a bit and their taste become more sophisticated. They may, for example, have become a fan of the Italian Barbera grape. Luckily Cantillon would have them covered if they came here as it has a grape lambic of the same name, ruby red in colour and with the breezy light spritziness that Barbera wine does well. The aroma is sweet but classy fig relish while the flavour mixes cherries again with a more pronounced nitre spicing than in the previous one. It got heavier as it warmed, the sweet cherry turning to a frangipane paste. 750ml brought us on quite a journey, and while it might not be the brewery's best work, it's very fun.

Walking back to town from Cantillon is generally going to involve passing Moeder Lambic Fontinas, or trying to. I didn't put up much of a fight. Kernel's Vatted Porter 1864 had been at the BXLBeerFest but I didn't try it there so I was glad of the second chance when I saw it here. As it turned out it's fine, but lacking the special effects I was anticipating. The aroma is sweet and herbal, suggesting chocolate and vermouth, which leads on to the signature floral taste I always enjoy in Kernel's black beers, complicating only slightly the milk chocolate base flavour. As a porter it's properly refreshing, which was a surprise given the 7.2% ABV. I had been hoping for some sort of mildly sour woody briskness but there was none of that. It's good, then, but a bit of a waste of vat time.

I think I get to complete the most recent round of house beers with this glass of La Source Moeder Impériale, a double IPA of 8% ABV. It's clear in the way these generally aren't back home, and smells funky and dank, veering into soap territory. A weighty and smooth texture helps carry those big hops, which bring a serious west-coast sensation to the flavour: grapefruit, lemon, bergamot and lime. Only a whisper of earthy funk, right at the finish, reminds you it's brewed in northern Brussels, not southern California.

It was the promise of Greek beer that got me through the doors of BrewDog. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. The beer was an IPA called Psaki, by Solo in Heraklion. This one was fairly by-the-numbers for an old-fashioned American-style job: 7.5% ABV, orange in colour and brimming with resins, flowers and spritzy citrus. I hadn't thought of this kind of thing for a hot day on the terrace but it absolutely worked, thanks to the clean and dry flavours.

Via BrewDog's Berlin satellite, which was well represented on the taps, 50 Cuts, a coconut and vanilla porter. This has a sunny coconut aroma but not much else going for it. More coconut appears in the flavour, which is good news if that's what you bought it for, though I also found a strange meaty, savoury effect. All that is set on a body which is far too thin for 7% ABV. I'm glad I was on the Greek stuff; these Germans aren't very good at making beer.

This was part of a final lap before heading to the airport and it also included a brief visit to Le Coq, now one of my favourite Brussels hangouts. De La Senne Summer Crush was the order and... it was disappointing. From the name I expected fruit in spades but it's exceedingly dry, to the point of acrid. Mild lemon and herb notes cause it to taste like the severer sort of discount witbier, and more something you'd rub a chicken with than drink. Just a glitch, I'm sure. Why this place isn't selling endless pints of Zenne Pils I do not understand: it's the perfect venue for that sort of unfussy pleasure.

I had never sat in the main ground floor bar of the Delirium Café, always ending up in either the basement or the loft, but it was almost empty as we were passing and so we availed of the opportunity. I hadn't yet had the pleasure of Huyghe's recently-added IPA, Paranoia, either so I availed of that as well. And quite the pleasure it was. In general I don't care for Huyghe beers at all but this 5.6%-er is startlingly clean yet characterful, beginning on an aroma mixing fresh lemon zest with peachy Belgian esters, and continuing the flavour in the same way, with a citrus bite backed by soft stonefruit. You might say it's two-dimensional but so are many famous works of art. Like Zenne Pils, this would work well as a pintable sessioner in any mainstream bar of quality.

And so to the airport. AB InBev still controls the taps and fridges here, and they have what I guess is their answer to Duvel: an 8.5% ABV golden ale called Victoria. It does have the same old-world salad hopping but is very plain beneath. It's not sweet like Leffe Blonde but neither is it properly flavourful like Duvel, only a slight estery burn distinguishes the taste. Nothing this strong should be this bland.

Via the miracle of non-linear storytelling, gate 107 is not where this all ends. We still have a festival to go to. Doors open tomorrow.