Belgiany

Everyone copies Belgian ales, while the Belgians try and do more interesting things with their brewing legacy. Here are some beers straddling the boundaries of tradition and innovation, Belgian-style.

In 2024, Weihenstephan hosted St Bernardus for the brewing of a Belgian-style golden ale. Now the Belgians have returned the favour at Watou and enlisted the Bavarians' assistance for the brewing of an unfiltered Helles, Kombine. At 6% ABV, the strength is decidedly Belgian and far higher than a German Helles would be. It's slightly cloudy, in a wholesome Kellerbier way. The gravity gives it plenty of density and it's a filling sipper. That in turn provides lots of room for flavour, which opens on an intensely floral honey sweetness, balanced out by malt crispness and a slightly herbal sharpness from presumably German hops. Unsurprisingly, it tastes more like a bock than any other lager style, and runs a consequent risk of turning cloying and sticky. I think it manages to avoid that, however: cleanness in the face of strength being the typically Belgian attribute in evidence here. If the aim was for St Bernardus to make something that tasted authentically German, then I think they've succeeded, adding the luxurious heft of a Belgian golden ale to the offer. It's unusual without at all being gimmicky, which I enjoyed.

Last year's Christmas beer box from Martin's of Fairview included a tripel by Hope which the shop is now selling off at a discount and I bought a bottle. It's 8% ABV and I suspect it may be the same beer which Hope released as a limited edition of their own a few months later. Perhaps this description should be in the vintage section of my web presence. It's a murky amber colour and tragically flat in the glass, feeling a bit hot and soupy. The flavour is very sweet, loaded up with tinned pears and orange candy, plus a harsh fennel bitterness that does nothing for balance. Yes, I think this is the same beer, and the months of cellaring have not made it any better. The elements of tripel are here, but they're not assembled in the same way that they are in classic Belgian examples, lacking subtlety, integration, carbonation and any sort of charm. It's strong and flavourful -- I'll give it that -- but it's not good beer, and really not up to Hope's standard.

The grand finale is a beer I had been on the lookout for but hadn't seen until I found it on the same visit to Martin's. Duvel Imperial Blond is intriguing because they don't seem to have done anything different, other than boost the gravity. The lower-strength versions serve a purpose, especially on draught, but one beefed up (slightly) to 10% ABV? That doesn't seem like it would add anything positive. It looks exactly the same as Duvel; maybe a little darker, but still very much golden, with the same tall frothy head. And it tastes identical: the same zesty citrus and peppery spice, with minimal alcohol heat. It's lovely, but I don't get it. Were there really people out there who wanted the same Duvel beer at 6.66%, 8.5% and 10% ABV? They've been given it, and the only question is why. By rights this beer should have more of everything: more spice, more zing, more substance. Instead, it's same-old same-old, but since that's the Duvel same-old, it's beautiful, and magnificently drinkable above all. I don't think I felt the extra alcohol, except for a growing warmth in the belly which I don't get from regular Duvel. While I'm glad I tried it, I won't be trading up from the Duvel my local supermarket sells, nor opining loudly that this one is the brewery's best. The extra poke seems more of an inconvenience than an enhancement.

It's hard to see where there are improvements to be made on classic styles the way the established Belgian breweries produce them. I wonder in particular which side has learned the most from the St Bernardus and Weihenstephan collaboration projects.

Peaks and troughs

Skiing has never appealed to me, so a brewery that seems to have made it its whole thing was always going to be a tough sell. Beer is more important than branding, of course, and even though I hadn't been very impressed by my first encounter with Outer Range -- based in both the Colorado Rockies and the French Alps -- I was willing to give them another go in this fallow period of the brewing year. Six cans should be enough to settle me on whether or not it's a brewery worth pursuing.

I'm never sure what to make of it when breweries have beers labelled with lager sub-styles such as Helles and pilsner, but also ones they're just calling "lager". It immediately suggests that, with the latter, they haven't really put the effort in to do it well. The first two today are a case in point, beginning with Cool Cool, a "lager" of 4.9% ABV. It seems it's the unfiltered sort, pouring a misty amber colour, with lots of head initially, then fading fast. There's a crispness and a greenness in the aroma which reminds me of many a decent unfiltered pils, and the flavour combines those mitteleuropa elements well. It is a little sweeter than most proper pilsners, having a light honey and caramel middle, but then there's a mineral bitterness with the fresh bite of raw spinach or lamb's lettuce. And even though there was all that foam, it's somewhat undercarbonated which renders it easy to drink but takes away from the refreshment power. Overall, though, it's a very nice beer, and well made as long as you don't mind your pale lager cloudy and low on fizz. Close your eyes and pretend you're in pine-tabled German brewpub.

On, then, to the actual pilsner, called Alpen Pils. It's paler than the previous one, though still cloudy and very slightly weaker at 4.8% ABV. The same issue of big foam followed by a disappearing head and tokenistic conditioning occurs. It's an altogether lighter and thinner affair, the malt side in particular dialled back to a mildly oaty crunch, and the hops too are muted, missing the leafy salad and chalky minerals and offering little substitute in their place, only a very faint pinch of lemon zest. It's quite generic, really, with only the haze giving it any proper personality: a yeast-derived clove and cinnamon effect that would definitely result in marks off in any style-based contest, but which I think gives it a bit of much-needed character. This is fine; being moderately refreshing and filling, and just about interesting enough to hold my attention all the way through. I think the non-defined lager is the better of the two, and that swapping the stated styles around would be more accurate.

From lager to a lager-adjacent style, Kölsch: Après All Day. This is another hazy one, though only slightly, and an appropriate pale yellow. The aroma is also appropriate, being grain-crisp and wholesome with a very light hint of fruitiness, but nothing un-lager-like. The carbonation is spot on, although that didn't help the head retention, its generous white dome collapsing to near-nothing with indecent haste. The flavour reverses what happened in the aroma, with a pale malt background giving the finish a dry crunch, while up front there's a subtle mix of lychee or white plum. That means it's not true to the Cologne style, and it's a bit cheeky (not to mention illegal) to reference it on the can. But it is a lovely beer; subtle yet characterful, refreshing and quaffable, and all at a very reasonable 4.5% ABV.

The lightest of today's set is only 4.1% ABV and is a witbier called Wisp. Obviously, haze is to be expected; not so much the big heavy gobbets of gunk that came out of the can too. Thankfully, that all settled quickly to the bottom of the glass so didn't interfere too much with the drinking experience. There's a strongly herbal aroma, making me disbelieve the can's claim that no herbs were used. Maybe it's just a side-effect of the yeast, but I would be surprised. We're back in low-carbonation territory, and that's a big problem with this style, which really needs the fizz to brighten it. When nearly flat, it tastes quite stale and sweaty. The herbal character is much lighter in the flavour, and the main feature is the wheat, which manifests as a kind of porridgey breadiness. There's a tiny hint of lemon zest, but not enough to brighten what's a rather dull and lifeless beer overall. There's lots in need of fixing here, all of which should be obvious to anyone who has ever enjoyed a witbier.

That left me quite apprehensive when approaching the last two, both of which are also in Belgian styles. Final Summit calls itself a "farmhouse ale", which I'm reading as a saison, and it's the right shade of hazy gold. It's strong for that, mind, at 7% ABV. This gives it a heavy texture and quite a lot of sweetness: saisons ought to be dry, and while this has a certain amount of the style's typical straw and white pepper, there's lots of fruit too. It's almost juicy, in fact, with softly tangy satsuma and tinned pineapple, plus a little pear and grape alongside, for the full fruit salad effect. Sweet herbs also feature: spearmint and aniseed. As such, it's quite tasty, but there's nothing very "farmhouse" about it. If it had been sold to me as a Belgian blonde ale I wouldn't have batted an eyelid. It's probably for the best that they didn't use the word saison and kept things fairly non-specific.

Air Stream, however, is described as a Belgian-style blonde ale, and is stronger again at 7.9% ABV. Miraculously, it's actually clear, proving that the brewery can do that if it wants to. It's an attractive deep gold and the head retention is very decent, for a change, at least in part due to proper carbonation. This isn't the brashest of beer styles, and the aroma is appropriately subtle, with pleasant notes of honey, apricot and pepper, but not too much of anything. The floral side of the honey is at the centre of the flavour, turning a little artificial, like fabric softener. A pinch of citrus zest helps balance this, and then there's a similar sharp mineral bite in the finish. All of it is set on a soft and pillowy base which demonstrates that it's a big beer even though there is no alcohol heat. Overall it's rather good. Think of it more as a stronger Leffe than a lighter Duvel: exciting it's not, but as a calm and unassuming sipper it's still enjoyable.

All that left me curious to try their American equivalents to see how they differ, if at all. American breweries tend to do things more by the book than European ones, and I doubt that some of the shoddiness on display here -- some of it charming; some unpleasant -- would fly on the highly competitive US market. The beers above lack polish, and I'm not convinced they're all as their brewer intended them to be. As such, I'm not strapping on my figurative skis and rushing back for another go on the Outer Range.

Exit by the Abbey

Finishing up this week of posts from east Flanders with a bit of history. I, with my fellow Brussels Beer Challenge judges, found myself at Merksplas-Kolonie on a dreary Monday afternoon. Founded in the early 19th century, this was a sort-of workhouse, residential and employment facility for the destitute. Under Belgian law at this time, and indeed up until the early 1990s when the EU put a stop to it, it was possible for vagrants, the homeless, and anyone without a "proper" place in society to be committed to rural colonies like this and put to work. Following its decommissioning (although there is still a working detention facility on-site) this one has been turned into a visitors' centre, restaurant and event venue, with a hotel in development in the stables.

And of course there's a house beer brand: Vagebond. The core beer is a tripel called Vageblond but we didn't get to try the base one, starting instead on Vageblond Jenever, a version that's been aged in a barrel previously used for the local gin. Maybe it's for the best that we didn't taste the ordinary tripel, as it seems from this that it's very plain, lacking the spice and honey topnotes of good examples. With the barrel, however, you do get a solid dose of boozy herbs, though it's clean tasting as well, and not at all gimmicky.

A somewhat less ambitious twist comes with Vageblond Tripel Primeur. Like the original, this is 8% ABV, the alcohol unaffected by the addition of extra Target hops. I wouldn't have put that down as an especially fruity variety, but there's a huge amount of fruit on display here, all peaches and lychee, set on a smooth and creamy body. It's very dessertish -- perhaps a little too sweet to drink easily, but very pleasant to sip with cheese, I imagine.

And there's a quadrupel as well, the beast that is Vagebruin, at 10.5% ABV. It's a lovely mahogany colour, the flavour starting on a dry cereal grain with more than a hint of roast. I didn't get much by way of fruity Belgian esters, so no plum or raisin, only a mild dark-chocolate bitterness. Though the strength is very apparent from its density and a certain amount of boozy heat, the flavour otherwise doesn't show much complexity. Fine but plain is the verdict. One would expect more from a quadrupel.

Earlier that day, the lunchtime beer had been Affligem's Postel Dubbel. It's a very retro-looking label, but not one I recall seeing before. It's 7% ABV and here we have the features which were sorely missed in the quadrupel. There's chocolate and toasted grains as well, but also lots of delicious dark fruit: black cherry, prune and raisin, finishing on an exotic tang of tamarind. It's not wildly different from other Belgian breweries' quality dubbels, but does show that it's still possible to impress with one of these.

The other grand institution we visited was Corsendonk Abbey. Corsendonk is now a large hospitality company with several hotels in the area, including this one. Despite it also being a ubiquitous beer brand, there's no history of brewing on the site, and the beer all comes from faraway Wallonia.

Corsendonk Blond is a perfectly palatable Belgian blonde ale, almost as easy to drink as a lager, especially when cold on draught. But there's a lovely lacing of honey to add body and give the flavour at least some modicum of character. While far from exciting, it's clean and accessible, while also unmistakably Belgian.

The brewery had featured at the opening reception, where they were pouring another blonde ale, called Tempelier. At 7.5% ABV, it's stronger than most of these are, heading for the weight of a tripel. And you can really taste the difference here, with a heat you don't get from 6% ABV blondes, or even squeaky-clean Duvel. The flavour is largely bready -- wholesome, but a bit boring -- with some added sweet relish or marmalade shred. It's unexciting but perfectly acceptable for the specs.

There's also Corsendonk Blanche, their witbier. The trick with reviewing these is to find the point of difference with the style's archetypes, and then decide if they're an improvement or not. This is a definite not as the recipe's peculiarity appears to be ramping up the coriander to beyond acceptable levels. The result is intensely herbal, like a medicine cabinet, with a background soapy unpleasantness. It's the sort of thing one's palate probably gets used to when drinking more than a sample, but I didn't deem it worth the effort.

Back at Corsendonk Abbey, they were serving lunch. With that came a 75cl bottle of what appears to be a new limited series. Grand Hops: Mistral d'Alsace was the name, and presumably Mistral is the single hop. It's an IPA and is 6.9% ABV. For all that, it's light-bodied and a little unBelgian. The flavour is remarkably complex for a single-hopper, loading in summer flowers to begin, then a punchy lemon zest before finishing on raspberry and cherry. It's lots of fun and very interesting to explore. It's always good to see a venerable old brewery trying something like this, and even better when it results in something delicious.

Today's top Belgian travel tip is that if you have a few hours before you need to be at the airport, try Mechelen. It's a typically picturesque Flemish city and only a short hop to the airport by train. I had an hour spare which was just enough to get to the main square, drink a beer and come back for the train.

I drank it in a poky pub hard by the cathedral called De Floeren Aap: Deep Terra double IPA, a surprise appearance from New York's Drowned Lands brewery, in a venue with an otherwise unremarkable beer offer. It's completely opaque, 8.2% ABV, and has a pungent, bitter, garlic aroma. I expected savoury soup but it does an abrupt and welcome about-face on tasting, showing lots of smooth orange juice and a bite of peach skin. It's heavy, but still has plenty of sparkle, so while it feels as strong as it is, it remains drinkable, if a tiny bit hot.

Our quest ends here. A huge thanks to the Brussels Beer Challenge team for inviting me over and for the fascinating social programme. Let's do it again some time.

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.

Zwolle incognita

Yesterday's post left off with our arrival in Zwolle, a Dutch city I'd never been to before. From what I saw, it's a pleasant little place, if a little sleepy, lacking the verve that students bring to the likes of Leiden and Utrecht. Dominating the local drinks offering is Het Refter, a grand multi-storey bar and restaurant with a sizeable beer menu, and that's where we started.

There are two house beers of indeterminate provenance. Refter Blond is 5.5% ABV and definitely a cut above the typically generic examples. The aroma is a fresh and modern waft of mandarin and satsuma while the flavour is all tropical candy, like Starburst, finishing with a balancing kick of grapefruit zest. Yes it's a little sweet, but is light-bodied enough to stay refreshing throughout. Whoever picked this to have Refter's name on it made a good choice.

At the same strength, the other house beer is Refter Hoppy White, possibly dating to the time when white IPAs were still fashionable. Again they've squeezed a lot of tropical elements in here -- passionfruit and some coconut. There's a substantial amount of coriander, but unlike so many white IPAs it doesn't clash with the big hops, perhaps because they've gone for juicy rather than bitter. Anyway, it works very well, presenting a tasty juice-driven IPA with an interesting witbier twist. Another pleasant surprise.

A beer that caught my eye as it wandered down the list was something called Strawberry Basil Splash IPA from local brewer Stanislaus Brewskovitch. That had to be tried. 5.9% ABV, it smells of jam and candy, and not of IPA. Expecting something sticky I found it actually unpleasantly thin, and whatever complexities it might have had muted as a result. The basil appears in the flavour, not fresh and green but as a dried, apothecary shop effect, with a dab of bathroom-cabinet floral lavender. The strawberry jam twang follows that, but is brief. I realised I wanted this to be big and weird and daft, and wouldn't have minded if it were unpleasantly so. But it turned out to be a damp squib: inoffensive and not really making the most of the spec.

I figured that Jopen could be relied upon to bring the noise, and there was an unfamiliar triple IPA of theirs on the list: the 10% ABV Heavy Cross. This isn't actually particularly heavy but it is plenty bitter, piling in the lime in a very west-coast way. Caramel malt sweetness provides contrast and there's a slight complexity in the form of some floral and spicy jasmine and honeysuckle elements. Best of all, it's clean and dry, clearly demonstrating the high alcohol without turning sticky or cloying. I don't know that I can call a powerhouse of this sort "balanced", exactly, but it's not jarring or difficult either.

That session finished light, on a saison from the wacky Netherlands-based Finnish cuckoo brewery Flying Dutchman. It's called More Dry And Sour Than Your Mother In Law but it's not even slightly sour and isn't even especially dry, lacking the earthy spicing typical of saison. It is only 4.7% ABV and very light-bodied on that, to the point of thin. What saves it is the flavour: a lovely mix of refreshing lemon and exotic coconut. I just checked the ingredients and it's made with Sorachi Ace, so that explains that. The coriander, orange peel and grains of paradise are less discernible, but it does make sense to consider it as more of a witbier than a saison.

We came back to Het Refter the following evening and I got the chance to try a black IPA I missed previously: Gijte Paedje from De Natte Gijt. This 6.7%-er hit all the correct black IPA style points, beginning with a heady aroma of spiced red cabbage and concentrated aniseed. A creamy coffee foretaste leads on to a more spiky grapefruit bitterness behind. There's a flash of tart gooseberries and then a finish of cocoa and coconut. I loved the depth of it all -- one of those flavour profiles you can simply wade into and find new features with every sip. There's no better example of why black IPAs should still be everywhere.

The only other Zwolle venue I have for you is Café de Hete Brij, a rather more orthodox pub with a small beer list. Nevertheless, there were two house beers again. Bronckhorster certainly used to brew for them, I don't know if it still does.

Blonde Brij is 7% ABV so I don't know whether to place it down with the Leffe-a-like lager substitutes or up with the Duvel clones, and it doesn't really taste like either. It's dry and lightly spicy with a noble hop note of celery in amongst the grain husk. The strength is apparent and yet it remains quite refreshing, if a little rough. Compared to Refter's example, this is much more what I would expect from a house blonde ale in this part of the world. Unfortunately, perhaps.

We haven't had a bock today yet, and Brij obliges with Bokkige Brij, again at 7% ABV. There's the red liquorice, right on cue. But what's this? Raisin and grape tannins? Normally the base would be sweet and caramelly; this one is drier and more mellow. I got a brief kick of vinegar in the aroma so I'm wondering if the surprise complexity is more to do with the keg being on slightly too long rather than any creative flourishes with the recipe. Regardless, it worked. This wasn't just another autumn bock and was all the better for that.

Like many of Belgium's big breweries, Kasteel brews a strong blonde ale to compete with Duvel, and all of the other clones of it. Theirs is a level of culpability down from Duvel, Satan, Judas and Piraat, being merely un Filou. It's the full 8.5% ABV but doesn't have Duvel's complexity -- though that may have more to do with the draught serve than anything else. I really enjoyed the mix of spices and bubblegum at the centre of the flavour, though other than some pale and dry grain there's not much else happening, but perhaps that's enough.

That's certainly enough for today. Tomorrow we head further west, with the promise of a beer festival.

Pirates, dragons and monks

All going well I should be in Belgium at the moment. Like all seasoned travellers I did some acclimatisation before setting out, with the help of this six-pack of strong beers I found in Lidl.

Piraat I've had before, but since my review was posted in January 2006 and is, let's say, brief, I thought a fuller reappraisal was in order. Idly I assumed it was one of those generic Duvel clones but it's a fair bit stronger at 10.5% ABV, and darker with that; properly amber. There's lots of lovely fruit in the aroma: fruit-cake fruit like sultanas, glacé cherries and lemon peel, with an edge of marker pen as well. For all that it's quite a smooth creature to drink, the light and spritzy citrus being the most dominant feature. There's a soft peach and apricot side too. The warmth arrives late and isn't overdone, just a mild richness bringing to mind chocolate or almond paste. It's a superb example of very strong beer presented in an approachable way. You'll know you've had a drink but won't suffer any difficulties getting there.

While I say they're not out to rip off Duvel, that there's now a Triple Hop Piraat is rather on the nose. In contrast to Duvel's approach, however, there are four varieties in here and the label doesn't deign to tell us which ones. Points off for that. The appearance is the same as above and the fruit in the aroma is a little fresher, but not in any identifiable way. On smell alone it's not an improvement, and I don't get a huge amount of difference on tasting either. The weight and warmth elbows any extra hop character out of the foretaste -- you're left with just the standard Belgian yeast-derived stonefruit esters. Only at the very end, more the aftertaste than the finish, is there a bonus squeeze of citrus, suggesting that some American variety or other might have been involved. Overall, it's not impressive. It's fine, but it talks a hop game on which it simply cannot deliver.

Gulden Draak is another one that I covered here in the dim and distant, and I think I've had it a few times since. The brewery styles it as a "ruby red tripel", and I can't think of any other Belgian beer so designated (though of course there's an Irish one). We're still at 10.5% for the ABV. The aroma is every bit of that: a powerful waft of nail varnish remover and fermenting brown apples. A subtle experience is not on the cards. The flavour is thankfully less severe. It's surprisingly clean and not hot, with the first effects to land being milk chocolate and a honey side which earns the beer its place in the tripel category. The honey lasts long, and is a little sticky, but a mild bitterness comes with it for balance; a complementary wax tang. On the fade-out there's a more dubbel or quadrupel-like touch of raisin and date, while the aftertaste is surprisingly small. I took a little time to adjust to this, but it turned out to be quite the gentle giant by the time I was half way down. Not one to drink casually, though neither is it a chore.

The newcomer under this brand is Gulden Draak 9000. It's branded as a quadrupel and I thought they had taken a cheeky liberty with this pseudo-Belgian style because it says on the back of the label it's blonde. It's not, though, being instead dark enough to qualify, if a little pale compared to others: a dusky russet shade. There's no shifting us from that 10.5% ABV. The aroma is quite subtle: a gentle mix of dark fruit and spices of the sort you'd find in ordinary dubbel. Again, though, the proper quadrupel qualities follow later: cola nut, plum pudding and some creamy coffee. Everything is in order, then. The booze is well hidden, and if there's anything I can criticise this for, it's a lack of complexity. It's much less interesting than GD Classic. Being shipped next to it in a boxed set really throws that into relief.

We finally get a break from the double-digit alcohol with Bornem, a brand that's entirely new to me. Bornem Dubbel is 7.2% ABV and a deep rich brown colour. The dark fruit in the aroma is properly dubbel though there's a touch of stout-like roast as well, which is unusual but not unwelcome. That goes into hiding for the flavour, however: that's a down-the-line mix of fig, raisin and date, with a happy pinch of nutmeg and white pepper. No bum notes here, and no fancy tricks either: just the basics of a very decent dubbel. For me the texture is the standout feature, a beautiful smoothness that blends all the flavours together harmoniously. Top tier stuff here. Can they top it with a tripel?

Bornem Tripel also looks de rigueur: 9% ABV and an appropriate cloudy golden hue. The aroma is less orthodox, however: it smells like a pilsner, with a crisp green grassiness and no typically Belgian complexities. We're back to normality on tasting and the first thing that strikes is a very full, almost syrupy texture. I was surprised to see rice on the ingredients list but don't know if that has anything to do with the thickness. It's not unpleasant and entirely in keeping for an ale this strength. The flavour presents honey first, turning briefly floral before an abruptly bitter finish. I wouldn't expect a lot of hop character from a tripel but this one has a somewhat leafy, vegetal edge that I associate with traditional English varieties in particular. I looked around this for some fun spicing but there's none of that. So it's a tripel, then, but quite a plain one, missing out on the understated flair of the dubbel.

It was €16 for the six-pack, and I think I got good value from that. It makes regular appearances in Lidl so is worth keeping an eye peeled for, if you like your Belgian beer. I have a post-script to go along with it, too. Last month I wrote about the new-release beers from Trappists Westmalle and Rochefort, noting that Chimay had a new one as well. That finally washed ashore here so I got to give it a go before heading away.

Chimay 150 tells us little about itself on the front label, just that it's strong and blonde. On the back that's fleshed out with the information it's 10% ABV and contains "spices". There's certainly something a bit different going on in the aroma. Sniffing blind, I would probably say American hops were involved: there's a fresh zesty citrus thing going on, out of place for a Trappist, but smelling very pleasant. On tasting I get bergamot's slightly herbal quality, bringing an air of bath-bomb, and then sweeter, juicier peach and apricot. It finishes cleanly, with zero alcohol burn, and nothing I would describe as a spice. Overall, a decent and interesting beer, and very much a sideways twist on the more traditional golden Trappist offerings. Chimay's quality shines through regardless.

OK, close the doors and spin up the jet engines. Belgium: I'm ready for you.

Kasteel katch-up

Beers from Van Honsebrouck's Kasteel range have come and gone on this blog over the years, so I passed by the core-looking set when I saw it in the local supermarket. But it turns out I've never tried any of these so had to make a purchase on a subsequent visit. Let's see what we've got here.

Kastell Blond is a whole 7% ABV, putting it a step ahead of the likes of Leffe Blond. I still wasn't expecting it to be anything other than a plain Belgian blonde ale. To be honest, it isn't really, but I've been so starved of Belgian delight over the past year that I was still very happy with it. While maybe a little sweeter than the norm, packed with tinned-fruit-in-syrup flavours, it manages also to stay light and unsticky. There's an almost lager-like clean grain in the finish. It's a no-fuss sort of quality that -- on another day, in a different mood -- I might dismiss as bland. Right now, I'll take it.

I thought Kasteel Rouge was going to be something like a dubbel, maybe as a Chimay parallel. In fact, it's a fruit beer. Out with the kriek glass, so. And it's very krieky -- an assault of sweet cherry juice, right from the start. I found it hard to believe this candyboy is all of 8% ABV. Normally one would expect a buzz of hot cough syrup, but it stays light and clean, just like the blond. The blended recipe includes a certain proportion of Kasteel Brune, and if you look closely there is a little of the caramel and toffee one would expect from that style. Really, however, the cherry conquers all. I like cherry flavours so wasn't bothered by the lack of complexity here.

The sun comes up and the world still turns, and Van H now has a Belgian IPA in the range, looking like it's been there forever. Kasteel Hoppy is the lightest of today's bunch, being just 6.5% ABV. It's a bright polished gold in the glass. "Hoppy" does not describe the aroma. It smells like Duvel: that subtle mix of honey and grains with a little waxy dryness. I lazily assumed that it would be American-hopped, so would smell of grapefruit and perfume, but the label wears the "Belgische Hop" badge. And why not? I still have a right to expect it to be hop-forward though. The flavour has hops, but I don't know if I'd say it's all-caps hoppy. Under the honey and rye cracker there's a meadowy floral thing, and a mildly metallic tang. None of this is beyond the remit of a standard Belgian blonde, however. The shout-out to locally sourced hops was nice, but I was underwhelmed by the resulting taste.

There are plenty of better Belgian options out there at the moment, and these aren't going to replace them. I will draw the sweet kriek fans' attention to the Rouge and leave it at that.

Voodoo strangers

Through the latter half of last year I found myself accumulating an array of beers from New Belgium and then omitting to actually drink them. When the multiple Voodoo Ranger variants arrived, this began looking more like a challenge than a leisure activity. It was only towards the end of the Christmas break, with stocks running down in the beer fridge, that I eventually began tackling them.

First up, a Sour IPA. I was intrigued by the method here: rather than simply souring an IPA mash, this is a blend of finished IPA with a "wood-aged golden sour ale". It doesn't say if that was a mixed-fermentation creation, but it's New Belgium so let's guess it was. It's a hazy dark orange in the glass, with a floral and tangy aroma. I wonder if I've left it sitting too long to get the benefit of the hops. There is a decent amount of hop flavour left, however: a floral orange-blossom effect, turned sweet by a surprisingly heavy malt base. 7% ABV is a lot for these, which tend to work best when light and refreshing. This is more of a chewer, and the sourness level reflects that too. Its dominant feature is quite a punchy lactic tartness, landing right from the first sip and only subsiding when the sticky malt sweetness takes over. This isn't what I was expecting, and different from most any take on sour IPA that I've tried, but it's well made and has its place; perhaps more as a digestif than aperitif.

And with that, bring on the Rangers! Four of them, starting back in time with Voodoo Ranger 1985. It's 6.7% ABV and hazy, like IPAs in 1985 weren't, and my heart sank a little when I read "mango flavor & spice" on the side of the can. It smells like a witbier, which is a perfectly acceptable use of spice in beer, I guess, and with that idea planted, I realised it looked like one too: pale yellow with a fine and fluffy froth on top. First impressions on tasting were, well, unimpressed. The spices are muted, and there's no IPA hop kick. The fluffy creamy texture is pleasant, but there's a gap where the foretaste should be. After a while, the mango emerges, sweet and syrupy, and then a trace of the Belgian herbs and spices: coriander, cardamom and ginger. But that's your lot. It's underwhelming as an IPA, as a gimmick, and as a beer. I will admit it was a couple of weeks past the best before, but if I've missed anything through neglect it must have been damn subtle in the first place. A big nope on 1985, then. What were they thinking?

"American Haze" is the codename on the next Ranger, this one a mere 5% ABV and lacking daft ingredients. It is hazy as promised, an opaque pale orange. I didn't get much of an aroma from it -- elderly can problems again? -- but what was there seemed quite savoury, and a little dreggy. With haze comes sweetness, and this tastes like orangeade, nicely zingy and refreshing; sweet but light with it. In contrast to that half-aroma, it's perfectly clean-tasting with no murky twangs. Any issues with freshness have not affected the flavour unduly because it's still absolutely vibrant. It's an accessible and fun number, unlikely to impress any Heady Topper fans, but none of them have much of a sense of fun anyway.

More haze please, but bigger! That lands me Higher Plane, an 8.5% ABV "hazy imperial IPA". It looks a little deeper-coloured in the glass, with an almost Tequila Sunrise effect: red at the base and bright orange towards the top. Again not much aroma, and this one is a couple of months fresher than the previous. There's a mineral dryness on the nose, but little else. The first sip brought booze, and lots of it. I got a sort of Duvel sense at the outset: that alcoholic grain-and-honey vibe. Fruity peach and apricot liqueur chase that, before a hot and slightly acrid bitterness escort it down the throat. It's a bit odd, and quite extreme, though not without charm. Overall, I found it a smidge too hot and sickly to be properly enjoyable. I'm beginning to think these Voodoo Rangers have little in common with each other, beyond their totemic can skeleton.

Last up, no haze, just Voodoo Ranger Imperial IPA, presumably one of the earlier brand extensions. This one is the full 9% ABV and resembles American double IPAs when I first drank them: that perfect clear amber colour with a rich aroma, full of alcohol and citrus. That said it's surprisingly unbitter. In keeping with the style specs, there's lots of malt, and the hop side isn't quite strong enough to balance the sticky sugar from that. What you get instead is a gentle buzz of non-shred marmalade or orange jelly. It finishes quickly and unobtrusively, which I'm taking as a good thing. I doubt even 2008-me would be all that impressed with this. While inoffensive, it's lacking that loud American punch that made beers of this sort so exciting in the first place.

I didn't think I'd ever say it, but haze seems to be the way to go where IPA is concerned, at New Belgium anyway.