By the power of sour

No trip to Brussels would be complete without a sampling of its sour specialties, and I found these at a number of locations. First, it was La Fleur en Papier Doré -- my first visit since it re-opened after several years closed. It's still a beautiful café, although the beer list isn't an especially long one. Of interest was Mirakel, by De Ranke. The brewery isn't in Pajottenland so gets around the geographic restriction on lambic by sourcing the two- and three-year-old beer for this blend from established lambic brewers. The one-year-old element they produced themselves, allowing them to style it after their local river: "Spierelambic".

It achieves its goal of tasting like a proper geuze, with a green apple tartness and sparks of nitre. At 5.5% ABV it's lower strength than most new-wave lambics, and I think the complexity suffers somewhat from this. The finish is quite abrupt, with all the lovely wild features clearing off the palate with indecent haste. This lack of depth means it's not a contender for best geuze ever, but it's a pretty good one, and superb for a first effort.

Down the hill at Moeder Lambic Fontainas, they were pouring one from Boerenerf, and it would not do to pass that by. Alsacien is a plum lambic, 6.5% ABV, and the requisite shade of pinkish purple. There was no carbonation to speak of, which was disappointing, and it's light-textured as well. The flavour offers a simple sourness, and the fruit is non-specific and mostly confined to the aroma. There's no spark or spice and the whole thing is rather underwhelming. I wouldn't call it a misstep -- it's a perfectly decent beer -- but Boerenerf's wares are normally more impressive than this.

Among the bars I visited for the first time on this trip was Beer Capital -- a vast barn of a sports pub, right in the middle of town. The draught beer selection is pretty good, and included this oddity from Heineken-owned Mort Subite: Juicy Crime of Passion. It seems Mort Subite is following the example of Lindemans by releasing ever more gaudily branded super-sweet lambics. This is not as offensive as those ones. Yes, it's absolutely saturated in passionfruit syrup, but it's not sickly and smells like the genuine article. The flavour doesn't offer much other than passionfruit, though there is a certain tart kick to it as well, to give it a little bit of grown-up character. This is as silly as the tap badge, and not very beer-like, but neither is it unpleasant to drink.

Finally, we come to Cantillon. I didn't think it would be busy early on a Monday afternoon but had reckoned without the Quintessence festival which was kicking off the following day and which seemed to have brought the crowds a day early.

After a short wait, I picked Tarlantillon from the tasting room menu. The name is a portmanteau of the brewery and Domaine Tarlant, a Champagne producer whose grapes were included in the blend with two-year-old lambic. It's 6.5% ABV and the deep russet of orange wine. The sourness is very strong, with lots of mineral spicing and just a hint of marmalade citrus. It mellowed a little as it went along, but was still a workout for the palate by the end of the bottle. I liked it, but it wasn't an easy sup.

A most generous visitor from Australia was sharing further bottles around the table, and I have him to thank for getting to try Wild Friendship, a three-way collaboration between Cantillon and American sour beer gurus Russian River and Allagash. I say "thank" mainly because I had considered buying a bottle and having tasted it, I'm very glad I didn't. It's not very good. The oak side of it has been completely overdone, resulting in a raw and honking sappiness which covers any good features the beer may have had. This is where I would suggest a couple of years' cellaring to mellow it out, but it was released three years ago already, so I don't think that will work. Approach with caution.

Finally, a bottle labelled simply as Pineau d'Aunis, presumably blended with that grape variety. It's a dark amber colour and smells strongly of grape. There's a beautifully soft and full-bodied texture at a modest 6% ABV and a flavour stuffed with spicy gunpowder; the berry-like grape flavour limited to the background. I loved the mix of spice and smoothness, making it incredibly moreish. This is the sort of thing I had come to Cantillon, and indeed Brussels, for.

But it was time to leave; the brewery and the city. Brussels remains a fantastic city in which to spend a few days of casual beer drinking. I hope to be back before the year is out.