Belgium, why not?

I've barely set foot in Belgium this year, though that will be changing later in the autumn. To tide me over, a couple of Flemish randomers I picked up in Redmond's of Ranelagh.

Has the Americans' fascination with Belgian pils passed? Is it safe to come out now? The first beer today is a pilsner according to the small print, although the name, Verhaeghe Export, suggests a different lager style. I doubt it matters to anyone outside Germany. It's 4.9% ABV and an absolutely gorgeous dark golden colour in the glass, bubbling merrily to a generous white head. It put me in a good mood just looking at it.

That Belgian-pils raspy metallic dryness is there in the flavour, but allied with some other features which help offset the unpleasantness. A big one is hops: waxy, grassy and noble, like they've gone for a Czech vibe and pushed things a little further than is comfortable. I liked its cheekiness. And then there's what I first thought was a warm Belgian fruitiness -- something that's particularly prominent in the aroma -- but once Czechia was in mind I realised it's diacetyl: an Urquell level of butteriness. Again, that's not going to be for everyone, but, like with Urquell, it's the combination that saves it. I had expected bland, but this is rather charming by the 33cl bottle. Lager fans looking for something a wee bit out of the ordinary, take note.

Verhaeghe is better known for Duchesse de Bourgogne, while the next brewery, De Halve Maan, is better known for the Brugse Zot series. It also brews Blanche de Bruges, of which one sees a lot in Bruges, and the second beer is a brand extension on that: Rosé de Bruges. It is, I guess, the same witbier, but with added extract of unspecified red fruit. It doesn't look horribly artificial, having a slightly dull greyish cast to the pink colour, which I take as a positive sign that it isn't simply done with food colouring. The aroma is lightly sweet but very floral, like Parma Violets or Love Hearts candy.

It has a lovely soft and fluffy texture, less fizzy than I'd have thought typical of a witbier. The flavour is pink, but not excessively so. It's sweet, and a little jammy, but doesn't have the clanging artificiality that plagues so many beers like this. While no masterpiece of nuance or Belgian complexity -- it still tastes like an explosion in The Body Shop c.1990 -- it's both flavourful and easy-going. It's a jolly beer and you would need to be quite the dry shite to actively dislike it.

That's two rather pleasant surprises, then. I hadn't been expecting much from either of these, fearing blandness, tinny tangs and syrupy gunk. They're certainly adjacent to all that, but avoid it competently. Belgian beer: just when you think you know how it works.