New Beer Mag on the Way from Belgium.

Howdy from the Ozarks, where I am kept fat and happy with a steady diet of barbecue, baseball and IPA. A little too quiet on the lake this morning. I can hear a train whistling over the hills yonder. Fish are biting. Or so I'm told. Today my only mission is to ride a Jet-Ski. Like I said, too quiet.

OK, check out this upcoming Belgian beer mag called Bubblzzz. It is theoretically possible that the name is less silly in French or Dutch than in English. I couldn't say for sure. Regardless, it's a beautiful magazine with lively writing. Its preview issue is ambitious, ranging from Trappist beers to Pierre Celis to Zythos to Lambics and more. I reckon the idea is to show advertisers the great potential here. Much of the photography is gorgeous.

And there's a glowing review of Around Brussels in 80 Beers (page 12). This is my favorite review yet, thanks to the phrase, "Joe a le flair d'un chien de chasse dopé au houblon," which is something like, "Joe has the nose of a hop-addicted hound dog."

How cool is that? Our beagle would be so proud if he could read it. Unfortunately Truman was born in Flanders, and has been raised as an American, so he can't really be bothered with French.

Gotta go. I think I smell Centennial, ever so slowly seeping out of one of those bottles in the fridge.

The Books Come to Life and Dance with the Janitor When the Shop Closes at Night.

Sitting on a farm in mid-Missouri, sipping coffee. Junior was hungry and it's damn early. Feeling strong and virile thanks to a steady diet of sunshine, lake time, red meat, and Boulevard beers. Also feeling like a salesman this morning.

I'd hope that Thirsty Pilgrim readers are a saturated market when it comes to owning the handy little guidebook, Around Brussels in 80 Beers. But I know that you have friends. And they, obviously, want to know where to get a copy of their own. Since you're too cheap to give them one.

Well, as you know, there's the instant mail order. Or if you're in Brussels there are a bunch of shops: Waterstones, Sterling Books, Filigraines, Bier Tempel, Beer Planet, Beermania, Delices et Caprices and a couple others. Still more to come.

Waterstones especially—and perhaps against their better judgement—has seen some potential in us. They bought a very large amount of books and put up a window promotion. Here you see the photographic evidence.

Mr. Jackson's books are below ours, but we won't let that go to our heads. And I don't think he'll hold it against us.

Today, a Sneak Preview...

Coming eventually: a TV documentary series hosted by Tim Webb, author of Good Beer Guide Belgium. What you see below is the very beginnings of the project. The man behind this little piece of magic is documentarian Taylor Brush, a fellow expat based in Belgium. There are funds to be raised and a lot of production to be done, which would in theory be seriously under way by next summer.

This is just the initial tease, with the slightly longer promo to come soon, as I understand it. But... very promising, no?

Beer and Breakfast in Plain English.

Up at 4 a.m. Which is no big deal these days, thanks to Junior. Aiming to get to the station early. Train leaves at 6:59 a.m., arrives around 8 a.m. London time. A two-hour trip, but it's as if England has awarded me with an extra hour of life. So I spend it on breakfast. My old friend the Betjeman Arms at St. Pancras, sadly, is no longer open that early. Not until 10 a.m. Fine. I consult Podge's guide... not too many (pub) options this early... and I'm off to the Fox & Anchor.

This is a classy Victorian gastro-pub near the Smithfield Meat Market. (I thought I'd seen London meat markets before, having been out to the late night clubs. But no, I'm told this is an actual working market where foodstuffs are bought and sold. Interesting.) There are several pubs in London as nice as the Fox & Anchor, but one way it distinguishes itself is the morning hours for market traders and serious breakfasting. By the way, it also has six rooms and they look pretty damned nice.

Food. I could have gone with Eggs Benedict, but if I'm priming for a Great British Beer Festival, I've got to go with the proper English breakfast, don't I? Fried eggs, thick bacon, two sausages, blood pudding, beans, juicy tomatoes, grilled mushrooms, toast. I'm forgetting something. Oh yeah, a pint. In this case, a pewter tankard of Nethergate's soft, nutty and fruity Dr. John's Panacea. It was decent.

My next choice was even better: a Meantime Helles on draft. Lively, bitter and refreshing. Attention British people: If you must have a lager, consider that one.

More on the festival, probably, when I get the chance.

It's Not Easy to Type with One Hand.

The little feller is asleep in my other arm. He's the full-time job these days. So it's with some mixed feelings that I report to you the demise of Beers of the World, a nice little British magazine that had published my work a couple of times. I had hoped it would do so again.

It really tickles my wife whenever I make some duckets from this funny beer writing thing. One source of tickling has left us. Sad news in this house.

There is some able pondering here and here about whether this demise signals "the end of beer writing as we know it," as Mr. Tierney Jones said, and Mr. Hieronymus said again. The speculation: There's just not many duckets in beer magazines, therefore not many duckets in clever, long-form feature writing about our favorite subject. Meanwhile those pesky bloggers are giving lots of clever (and not so clever) writing away for free.

So, a question: Are beer blogs the future of beer writing?

God, I hope not. Here's the thing: I sort of dislike reading beer blogs. Sorry, guys. Ironic and true.

This here laptop, you see, is for work. Even if I waste lots of time on it, and even if the work is often lots of fun. Reading blogs feels like work to me. Cracking a book or a magazine, however, and putting up my feet... now that's leisure time. That's pleasure.

Now that I think about it, I don't even like writing about beer blogging. I'd rather just write about beer. For people who really like beer. Enough then.

Tomorrow morning, obscenely early, I'm off to London for an afternoon at the Great British Beer Festival. I hope to squeeze an article or two out of it. Something that would give somebody, somewhere, pleasure. That would help justify the price of the train ticket. And tickle my wife. And if I can't sell anything, well... I've got this other project here, in my other arm.

Just hope he doesn't expect to go to a nice college.

Worth noting: The recent launch of Beer Connoisseur magazine. At the moment it is essentially a collection of beer blogs. But friend and colleague Chuck Cook reassures me that there are plans for a quarterly print version to launch in November. Here you should read Chuck's recent column on the new Moeder Lambic.

In Case You Get Thirsty in Shanghai...

This is Rudy Wimmer. He is one of a handful of people giving some hope to a relative beer wasteland.

Rudy is the proprietor of Kaiba, a Belgian beer bar in Shanghai, China. It's really a very nice café. I know this for two reasons: (1) because Rudy is a righteous dude; and (2) because the title on his business card says "Beer Lover."

He's in Belgium at the moment meeting brewers and other contacts helpful to the cause of bringing better beer to his café. Meanwhile he's also opening a second location in Shanghai.

One of the coolest things I learned about Kaiba: Rudy makes a serious effort to keep his beer prices low, even while other places unscrupulously gouge customers with what amount to $7 glasses of cheap lager. As fellow Beer Lovers, we see that sort of gouging in expensive cities where beer inexplicably becomes a precious commodity (Paris anyone? New York?). We support all efforts to undercut such thievery.

I've never been to Shanghai. But when I get there, eventually, I now know where to drink: 528 Kangding Road, Building D, 101.

Here we see Rudy enjoying a Zinnebir at the Soleil café in downtown Brussels. Incidentally, you could throw a rock down that street and possibly hit the awning of the new Moeder Lambic.

Update: Moeder Lambic Fontainas Set for Fall Opening.

It's an unlikely spot, sandwiched between an all-day laundromat and a pornographic comic book shop. Maybe not where you'd expect to find one of Belgium's — and therefore the world's — top beer cafés. Yet there it will be.

I first wrote about Moeder Lambic Fontainas back in January. After the usual delays, an army of workmen have finally descended to busy themselves with rebuilding and painting and cleaning and installing. When it's finished, the location at Place Fontainas 10 will offer 40 taps and five or six handpumps (mostly reserved for lambic), plus a selection of 75 cL bottles that will only bother with stuff that ages well. One of the few 33 cL bottles – and probably the largest brewery represented – will be Orval. Otherwise the emphasis is on small craft brewing and sheer quality. Considering that philosophy and a focus on draft beer, no place like this has ever existed in Belgium.

Pictured here we see partners Jean Hummler, Andy Mengal and Nassim Dessicy in front of the facade, which is still mostly graffiti and shambles. Not for long. And that incredible awning, the only redeeming feature from the old front, will remain. Beneath it will be tables for sipping in the shade. Eventually those tables will spill out to Place Fontainas itself, when the city shuts off the street to traffic in a few years. Theoretically.

Those of you who use Facebook (shh!) can see more updates and photos here, including an artists' rendering here. Presumably the two identical girls sipping coffee will have company by the time the place opens in October.

Did I mention that? It's cross-your-fingers, knock-on-wood, seriously hopefully definitely supposed to open in October. Unfortunately not in time to help those attending Belgian Beer Weekend on the Grand Place to find something better to drink (ouch!), but still in plenty of time to find a rhythm before Christmas. There are also plans for a party of some sort a day or two before the Zythos Beer Festival next March.

Now: I'd suggest that the top beer specialist cafés in Belgium are, in no order, Moeder Lambic in Saint-Gilles, the Brugs Beertje in Bruges, the Kulminator in Antwerp, and Delirium in Brussels. Strictly in terms of destinations most visited by geeks.

I'd also suggest that come October there will be another place to round out a clear Top 5 — and it will be another Moeder Lambic.

Drinkable, Edible Perfectionism on Rue du Lombard.

There are certain local watering holes I was keeping secret until the book came out, despite an overwhelming urge to shout a few of their names from the rooftops. They are those gems previously unknown by beer geeks, tourist guidebooks, or even locals that (we hope) add real value to Around Brussels. Our hope was that giving them some attention would give them a well-deserved boost. At one of my true favorites — Nüetnigenough — there is at least anecdotal evidence of that happening.

(Quick Brusseleer lesson: nüetnigenough means "never ever enough," and is a noun used to describe an insatiable person.)

On a recent visit one of the owners told me they've seen plenty of patrons toting the book along with them, often ordering the beer it suggests — Avec Les Bons Voeux. This is a strong, blonde, bitter and complex ale originally brewed by Dupont for the holiday season. Its popularity was enough to see the beer made year-round, and it has since become a modern classic. More to the present point, it's thrilling to think that people are following our advice and even taking our offhand beer suggestions. (Kneel before Zod. I am drunk with power.)

By the way: It's really tricky selecting 80 beers to go along with 80 separate places. After learning matrices in math class, I never thought I'd create one in real life. You've got to know what's available in all those places before you can recommend one for each, without conflict and preserving certain priorities. You make compromises. One of the smallest ones was picking Bons Voeux instead of my first choice, Saison Dupont, which was needed elsewhere.

A handful of places in town (but never ever enough) offer Saison Dupont, but only a couple offer it on draft. This is enough to pull me in nearly every time I'm in the city center. Kegs of it appear occasionally at Belgophile beer cafés in the States, but unless you're a geek living here you won't know how rarely it's found on draft. Its classic incarnation is in corked, green 75 cL Champagne-style bottles, with brown 33cL ones occasionally seen. It is arguably more complex when bottle-conditioned, but on tap you find a fresher hop bitterness (and none of the skunkitude often found from the light-struck green bottles.) It's incredibly refreshing and I'm liable to put down a few glasses before remembering why I came downtown in the first place.

The owners have plenty of working café experience and their goal was to offer the sort of place that they wished existed. (This reminds me of great brewers who make certain beers because they don't see anybody else making what they want to drink.) Its Art Nouveau facade hides a smoky interior, with long tables and sharp angles, that leans more toward Art Deco. A shortish but high-quality beer list (Cantillon, Dupont, Boon, Westmalle, Orval, and no corporate anything) is matched by a lean and muscular food menu. The tapas-influenced grub is tasty, affordable, and different from the brasserie norm.

Frankly they deserve all the publicity they can get.

Vigneronne for Your Great Thirst and Mine.

What is it about the Vigneronne? Is it the sweetness of the Muscat grapes? Is it the beer's knack, especially when chilled, for embodying all that is refreshing about lambic? Or maybe it's the power to hit the reset button on your mind, stomach, palate, and soul? Especially when slurped at the end of a long night. Or the morning after.

Whatever it is, Vigneronne is my favorite Cantillon beer.

(I have favorites, and I don't trust people who don't. "Depends on my mood yada yada," whatever. How often do people ask you about your favorite beer? Don't waste their time with a spiel. Have a simple answer that will point them toward a great beer. You haven't taken the time to figure out your own favorite beer? Now that's just lazy. If you really don't know, you can borrow my favorite: Saison Dupont. Now, just for argument's sake, let's say you decide that your favorite beer is Bell's Two-Hearted. Excellent choice, by the way. And someone asks you if Westvleteren 12 is the really the world's best beer. Now all you have to say is, "No. Bell's Two-Hearted is the world's best beer." See how easy that was?)

Here you see the Vigneronne employed as a Sunday morning remedy at the Verzekering tegen de Grote Dorst, a.k.a. the Insurance Against Great Thirst. The Grote Dorst is in all likelihood the greatest lambic café in the world. It wins for selection, price, traditional location in the heart of Pajottenland, and after-church village atmosphere. Indeed the Eizeringen village steeple is just across the street. As a matter of great annoyance and charm, the Grote Dorst is only open Sundays, church holidays, and funerals. (Note that the café will be closed for summer holidays on July 19 and 26.)

And how about that vintage Cantillon glass? Or is it faux-vintage? Who cares? It's cool. Hooray for tumblers that encourage us to gulp.

Junior is a Gueuze Man.

Thirsty Pilgrim Jr. entered the world at 16:48 Central European Time on June 25, feisty and cantankerous and spoiling for a fight. Hence my recent absence from posting. I'm as cranky and irritable as the l'il guy these days, so any complaints are to be submitted only in person and may promptly be answered with a polite punch in the face.

Yeah. I could use a nap.

Tension has been tempered in these parts to some degree by honest-to-jesus summery weather (in Brussels!) and the careful consumption of late afternoon and/or late evening beers of reasonable strength. Usually Taras Boulba or Biolégère for me, and gueuze for the heroic Missus. Anyone questioning such reckless behavior among newly instated child-rearers, please refer to paragraph 1, sentence 3. And know that the stuff is helping to keep us sane.