Thirsty Pilgrims Move On. That's Why We're Called Pilgrims.

Announcing the important announcement of an announcement... No, I'll just come out and say it: We're leaving Belgium soon. We're moving to Costa Rica in about a month. But this blog will keep on chugging.

I don't need to explain the challenges inherent in moving a beer blog's base of operations away from beer paradise and into a beer wasteland (even if that wasteland is, more or less, an actual paradise). Nor the problem that I've apparently become a beer writer. My next book: Around Costa Rica in 80 Bananas. Ho ho.

Here's the thing about the blog: If I'm right, it won't change all that much. It will still be about drink and food and travel, with an emphasis on craft beer. The photos will be sunnier. Until now the blog's spotlight has been pretty narrowly focused on Belgium, mainly because it's where I've lived and there's more to write about here than any one blog can handle. Initially I'd intended to cast the net much wider. Now I'll have another chance to do that.

What you can expect: More useful information and news for thirsty and hungry travelers worldwide, including Europe and North America. I'll keep covering Belgium, to a degree, because despite my cynicism I still think this country makes the best beers on Earth.

Meanwhile I'll have a unique chance to cover the Latin American craft beer scene... Imagine going back in time and being able to write about the handful of 1970s and early '80s American microbreweries, knowing what we know now. A scene like that can use honest writers, I think, to help keep it healthy.

I'll also be writing more about homebrewing, and what it's like to brew in a place like Central America. Because partly out of sheer need I'll be doing a lot of it.

That's the plan anyway. It will change. It always does. Meanwhile I still have plenty of Belgitude to empty from my notebooks. Stay tuned.

In the somewhat crappy five-year-old photo: The hot-spring-fed swimming pool at Tabacón Resport, near the base of the Arenal Volcano in northern Costa Rica. From our honeymoon. Going down the water slide and swimming across to the bar in one smooth motion fulfilled a life goal. Never mind what we drank. In the future, all bars will be swim-up bars.

ZBF Post-Game Analysis.

Another ZBF come and gone. Another chance to schmooze, booze, spot up-and-coming breweries, and discover beers perhaps best described as "potential future classics."

An annoying trend worth mentioning: As with the Bruges festival, ZBF is gradually being colonized by beer firms whose products are made at one brewery: Proef. True, many of those products are very good. And it's a great compliment to the contract-brewing business that Proef is running. Just the same, I'd prefer to see a greater diversity of actual brewers at these events.

Off the soapbox. Briefly I'll point out three beers that left me most impressed. If you weren't in Sint-Niklaas, watch for them in your favorite pubs and bottle shops.

Troubadour Magma. From the Drie Musketeers beer firm and made at, yes, Proef. It's got a huge American-hop aroma and flavor — citrus and pine — without being overly bitter. It's also got the relatively light-and-lively mouthfeel you expect from a Belgian ale, so it's dangerous at 9% strength. One of the better so-called Belgian IPAs that has emerged so far.

Den Triest Dubbel. Marc Struyf's home brewery has become a microbrewery, and we should all be glad. So far he's making flavorful, dryish abbey-style beers with real malt backbones, bitterness, and without silly spicing. His Dubbel had real roast and toast to it, a clean bitterness, and just an impression of sweetness. I want more.

Saison de Dottignies. This is classic De Ranke — well-hopped, floral and dry — so in some ways this beer is no revelation. But it's lighter and brighter than the XX Bitter, refreshing as a saison ought to be, and at 5.5% strength ultimately very useful. And some good news: Jean at Moeder Lambic Fontainas says it should be a permanent fixture on draft there.

So, for those of you who went, what did I miss? Anything else catch your imagination?

If 'Forced Carbonation' Sounds So Wrong, Why Does It Taste So Good?

Another update on this weekend, courtesy of the Moeder Lambic team: The full stable of Cantillon beers will start pouring Thursday at Fontainas, not Friday. So there's some extra flexibility for travelers in town for (Pre-)ZBF as well as us lazy townies.

Any thoughts on traditional lambic being served à la pression? Because surely there are some die-hards out there who hate it. And more simple hedonists like me who love it. And lots of thoughtful wishy-washy types who have mixed feelings. I'd love to hear from any of you.

Semantics of Lambics and Other Pastimes.

Some useful details for those of you planning on the Night of Great Thirst in Eizeringen this Friday. Then we talk lambic philosophy.

Transport info here, including free shuttles, flat taxi rates, local bus lines, and driving directions. (Incidentally, it's only about 20-30 minutes drive west of Brussels, depending on where you start.) And a list of beers here — note the spontaneously fermented beers from Allagash in Maine, including one made with raspberries, another with cherries, and a vaguely gueuze-esque blend. The festivities kick off at 7 p.m.

The Allagash beers represent a small, budding trend in America: craft brewers attempting spontaneously fermented beers that honor the Pajottenland tradition yet refusing to call them — for marketing purposes, anyway — lambics. So here's a fun question to be discussed among enthusiasts: If you make a beer exactly the same way a lambic brewer in Brussels or Pajottenland makes it, but you do it in Maine or California or wherever, then what have you made? Is it lambic?

Turns out it's not a legal question. It's philosophical. Specifically, it's ethical and semantic.

In the DID YOU KNOW!?* category: A common myth is that "lambic" is a protected, geographic appellation. Not true. Its method and contents are somewhat protected by the EU — and arguably, not very well. But its status does not include geographical indication. So, theoretically, you could make a traditional lambic in Kentucky and market it as such in Europe.

Would that be a good idea? Maybe not. At best it would be rude. So far brewers like Allagash are avoiding words like lambic and gueuze out of sheer respect for their Pajottenland colleagues. I also suspect that aficionados might be turned off by that sort of audacity. So we end up with an "appellation" that is really more ethical than legal — and it might turn out to be good marketing to boot. Or at least the avoidance of bad marketing.

Finally, a trick question, but an easy one for a few of you: At which brewery is the barrel in the photo above located?

*Always to be exclaimed in a loud, deep, echoing voice.

Visitors to Hoppy Loft Will Now Be Able to Smell Their Hoppy Beers.

Just a brief piece of news, or two or three, as we pore over this weekend's beer lists for mysteries and surprises.

First of all, according to its latest newsletter, Delirium's Hoppy Loft is now open Monday to Saturday, 6 p.m. to 4 a.m. It's also gone... wait for it... non-smoking. Previously it was only open weekends, and it was clouded when crowded. Not anymore.

I was there a few weeks ago, after the new smoking ban had passed, hoping to find that at least the Loft had gone clean. I wouldn't expect a fat cash cow like Delirium, dependent on mobs of chain smoking teenagers, to go totally cold turkey... But I thought at least the Hoppy Loft might. It's theoretically aimed at a different audience, after all. One that likes to sniff, you know, hops. No such luck that night. I'm happy to see they've found some sense.

I'd like to compile an up-to-date list of which beery joints in town have gone smoke-free. In my theoretical free time. Meanwhile, off the top of my head, you can now smell your beer in these places: the Moeder Lambics (St-Gilles and Fontainas both), Delirium Hoppy Loft (but not the rest of Delirium), Poechenellekelder and Nüetnigenough. Please tell me more if you know them.

The other bit is that this Friday only, to mark ZBF weekend, the Hoppy Loft will open at 2 p.m. When you also think about the nearby Night of Great Thirst, the Cantillon open brew day, and Moeder Lambic's Cantillonaganza*, Brussels is becoming a smart base of operations for incoming festgoers.

*Not the event's actual name, but maybe it should be.

Where You Thirsty Types Might Want to Stay in Normandy.

We heard about the Ferme du Pressoir from a friend, who read about it in Rick Steves. That Rick Steves, he tends to be good for business. He also tends to be dead-on right. This was a great place.

It wasn't just Odile, the jolly matron who kept us well plied with chocolate croissants, coffee, and omelets made with eggs fresh from her farm. Neither was it the typically rustic decor, comfy beds, or fire-hydrant-strong water pressure in the showers. Nor the handy proximity to Bayeux and its tapestry, the D-Day beaches, or stunning Mont St-Michel.

No, my favorite part, naturally, was the unlabeled bottles of cider, made right there on the farm, that kept reappearing in the fridge night after night. We were there three evenings, and only on the first did we make the mistake of eating out. Why go to a restaurant when you can cover your B&B table in funky local cheeses — Livarot, Pont-L'Évêque, Camembert and Neufchâtel — slather them across some crusty bread and wash it down with all that dry, floral cider? (Self-catering is an underrated art, by the way.)

We didn't want to leave. But Odile made it slightly easier by handing me another unlabeled bottle on the way out.

Pictured: Grandpa Willard and a bounty of pain au chocolat study up on their WWII history.

Me and You and Pieds de Dieu.

Cider, Calvados, Band of Brothers, and the stinky cheese they call the "feet of God." We're off to Normandy for a few days. Hope to have a report or two for you afterward. Meanwhile, if you have any suggestions, do tell.

Also some other news and announcements on the way. Sorry for being coy. Juggling baby and grandparents at the moment. And packing. And such. Thirsty work. But fun.

Eating Like a Gentleman From Liedekercke.

Since one of the world's most legendary restaurants for beer lovers is only a half-hour away, we're ashamed we've only been there a few times. Our lunch there on Saturday helped a bit. With luck and planning we'll get back there again soon.

I'm talking about the Heeren van Liedekercke, which despite the name is just barely in Denderleeuw. (Liedekercke is on the other side of the creek.) The specialty here is hearty and traditional Belgian cuisine, creatively done, and cooked in beer often as not. Then there's the standard list of 300+ bottles with an emphasis on smaller breweries.

Those facts alone would be enough to make the place great. What makes it legendary is the cellar. A multi-page list printed on A4 computer paper tells a long story of vintage lambics, Trappists and other gems. There are still a few Rodenbach Alexanders down there. Old Rocheforts and Westvleterens. The sought-after Drie Fonteinen J&J geuzes. And plenty more.

I settle on a 5-year-old Orval next to my "Orvaliflette." It is what it sounds like: tartiflette made with the ale. The Orval is floral as always, subtly tart, but naturally the bitterness and carbonation have softened. In my view this makes the pairing less than ideal, since that zip can help scrub the cheese and fat off the palate. But like any beer, it was compatible enough with a mish-mash of potatoes, cheese and bacon. Nothing can go wrong there, so it's only a question of how right. And this was very, very right.

Atonement can be damned tasty sometimes.

*Obligatory head nod to Tim Webb's Good Beer Guide Belgium, which brought us there for the first time nearly three years ago.

At That Price You Can't Afford NOT to Drink It.

Read it and weep. One and a half eurobucks for a glass of Saison Dupont, fresh on tap. What's a short bottle of that stuff going for in New York these days?

(Answer: $8 to $12, apparently.)

That poster is on the wall of the Caves Dupont, the pub just across the road from the brewery in Tourpes. Keep an eye out for this and more in an upcoming issue of DRAFT, featuring a piece on something we call Saison Road. Should be useful for anyone considering, planning or even just fantasizing about a tour of Belgium's farmhouse breweries.

ZBF Weekend is Growing Into a Liver-Eating Belgian Beer Week Monster. And I'm Cool With That.

The over-the-top craft beer weeks that have taken over some U.S. cities — like Philly and San Francisco — have no real analogue here in Belgium. But the closest thing might be ZBF weekend, which is gradually expanding into more than half a week. Now if someone would just plan stuff for Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday — beer dinners? meet-the-brewer events? homebrew competition? — we'd be in business. (And in trouble.)

Its all built around the Zythos Beer Festival in Sint-Niklaas. More on that event later, which attracts plenty of traveling beer geeks. That makes it a good time for other places that like traveling beer geeks to organize to-dos.

For now, it starts Thursday, March 4, with the Pre-ZBF Festival at Lakebosschen castle in Oostkamp, not too far from Bruges. Click on that link to find a PDF with all details in English. (Note the excellent "beeriodic system" that represents the fest's beer list.) Organized chiefly by the Alvinne picobrewery, last year's success follows with beers from Alvinne, Struise and Urthel, Dutch brewery De Molen, plus British breweries Thornbridge and Brewdog. No doubt there will be other surprises.

The Thursday Pre-ZBF event is a "whisky and beer" experience from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Don't bother, it's already sold out. Friday is open to the wider public, though, with or without reservation, from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m.

Also on Friday: the Night of Great Thirst, out at the excellently named Verzekering tegen de Grote Dorst (Insurance Against Great Thirst) in Eizeringen, not far west of Brussels. This is simply one of the world's best lambic cafés, and this event only happens every two years. It starts at 7 p.m., and all the major lambic makers are there... except for Cantillon. But that's OK, because...

Saturday is not just when ZBF starts. It's also Cantillon's semiannual Public Brewing Day. For those planning to hit ZBF later that day, what better way to start than coffee and croissants with the smell of cereals wafting through the air at Cantillon, bright and early?

For the rest of the weekend you've got to options: go two ZBF or drown yourself in Cantillon (and about 30 other top draft beers) at Moeder Lambic Fontainas. Or both.

Hard to go wrong, no matter which path you take.