Where to Hide in Limburg.

This is my favorite table at the Wedelse Molen, one of at least 600 reasons not to limit a Belgium visit to the big cities.

It's in Overpelt, a rural part of Limburg province, and surrounded by corn fields along the Dommel river. The Wedelse Molen is basically two things: (1) a protected landmark, as there has been a mill here since at least 1259, when the Count of Loon sold it to the Floreffe abbey; and (2) a pretty excellent if out-of-the-way beer bar. On my visit last month it was stocking more than 160 beers, including 14 drafts and lambics from Cantillon and Girardin.

The mill still cranks along, as you can see, although I'm not clear on whether it's just for show or provides some measure of hydroelectric power. In any case, it also provides a nice backdrop for a beer and a snack. Or if the weather is fine, the back terrace offers views of corn and a lot full of cars with Dutch plates.

That's where I sat, until I saw this table. To get to it, you have to climb and step though a couple of timber beams. A good place to hide; it might be smart to order at the bar first.

Brussels, Mussels and September.

I often wish I were back in Brussels. Here from my bed in Escazú, I have pleasant dreams about visiting old cafés, drinking lambic, and scribbling notes. My subconscious is researching another guidebook, even if I'm not (yet). No doubt the wife and tots prefer it that way.

Right now, though... I mean, if you had to pick one time of year... hey, mussels are in season. So are beer festivals. This is the time of year that Bruxellensis happens, in that parallel universe where Bruxellensis is a regular occurrence. (Hey, maybe next year.) And the Belgian Beer Weekend kicks off this Friday on the Grand Place. I don't love all of the breweries that tend to participate, but... it's not like I go thirsty, is it? And you can't really beat the Grand Place for a beer-fest backdrop.

Just up the hill from the Grand Place party is Bier Circus, of course. This morning I got their newsletter. Mussels are on. Cooked in Girardin lambic, in Witbier and watercress, or in Rochefort and stone-ground mustard.

Back to the Grand Place for a peek at the list: Lots of clutter there, but I could do with a St. Bernardus 8, a Witkap Stimulo, or a Saison Dupont. Or several. For something different, a Cascade-hopped Armand from De Dool. Then a Hercule Stout to punctuate the evening.

For now I have some hoarded lambics and a few bottles of Saison Dupont smuggled from the States. Tonight, before bedtime, I may have to open a bottle, bending my thoughts toward shellfish and tiny snifters of 10-centiliter servings.

Warm Water Café May Continue.

One of the last real lambic cafés in Brussels might very well live to see another day. But it's not a done deal yet.

As I mentioned before, Warm Water owner Lieve Polet has been planning for a while to retire at the end of June. Those plans haven't changed. Meanwhile, those of us fond of this bruxellois institution in the Marolles have been holding our collective breath, hoping that a buyer or somebody would come along to keep the place open. That may be happening now.

"There is a real possibility that Het Warm Water continues," Polet told me yesterday. The discussions are happening today, presumably between Lieve and the prospective buyer. She promises to let us know what happens. I'll keep you posted.

The Warm Water specializes in dialect, atmosphere, vegetarianism, bruxellois breakfast, and Girardin lambic. For more details, crack open your copies of Around Brussels in 80 Beers or LambicLand.

It need not be said that we hope this buyer is no architek just having a zwanze at our expense.

Belgian beer and cooking: The Naptime Chef has declared it Belgian Beer Week, with a bunch of Belgian-inspired, ale-involved recipes. She has developed the recipes in cooperation with the folks at importer Vanberg & DeWulf.

When I first read the name "Naptime Chef" and saw the beer-marinated pork tenderloin recipe, I thought maybe she specialized in meals that make you want to take a pleasant nap afterward. But no: The recipes are aimed at foody parents who love to cook. So they try to do it during the kids' naptime. Get it?

I do. I get it, better than you could know.

Drie Fonteinen to Brew Again? And Other News.

You might think there is a limit to my ability to get Belgian beer scoops from Central American soil. You'd be exactly right. My friend Chuck Cook is exploiting that limit ruthlessly. But he's just doing what he always does: packing lots of info-gathering and photo-snapping into another brief jaunt through Beer Paradise.* Also look way down below for tips on ZBF weekend.

Today Cook reports that Drie Fonteinen master blender Armand Debelder is "likely" to start brewing his own lambic again. As I reported last January, Debelder decided to stop brewing his own lambic and re-focus on blending his famous geuzes. "I'm not brewing anymore. That's definite," he said. This was partly because of the expense, and partly because of his age. He is approaching 60 and brewing meant long, exerting work days. However, Cook reports that Debelder has hired an assistant, which appears to be the neat answer to that problem.

Also, geuze blenders use different lambics to achieve their final product, and Debelder had an exacting recipe for his house-made portion. The idea was to have Frank Boon duplicate the recipe especially for Drie Fonteinen, but that was never going to be an ideal solution.

Cook also reports that a lambic-oriented visitor's center will open in Pajottenland in mid-May. Cook says it will be 3 km from Beersel.

Now here I've really failed you, because it's right here in my notebook from last January: "2011 - Oude Geuze Visitors Center. In Alsemberg. For HORAL members. Four languages: Dutch, French, English, German. Some help from Flemish government." Just another one of those things that got lost in the move. Sorry about that.

After the bit about the Flemish government, my notes say that Debelder whistled and said, "They've got lots of money for that!" The part about HORAL members suggests that the center will showcase mainly Pajottenland brewers: Boon, De Cam, De Troch, Drie Fonteinen, Girardin, Hanssens, Lindemans, Oud Beersel and Timmermans. Note that Cantillon is not an HORAL member.

The center potentially will be an exciting place for beer travelers to visit. No doubt there will be lambics to taste and probably cheese for nibbling. Time will tell if it's a worthy substitute for a visit to Cantillon, an earthenware mug of kriekenlambic while admiring the finches at De Cam, or a Pajottenland salmon and vintage geuze at Drie Fonteinen's restaurant.

ZBF weekend: Lots of you are in Belgium for lots of activities. Be well to each other and spread those festival tokens around. Look here for my post on various happenings. Be aware that transit strikes will slow things down, but apparently not cripple them. Belgian railways are running normally. Brussels-area metro, trams and buses will be about two-thirds normal. The De Lijn buses might have issues.

But for all the main events, I think all you'd need is a train ticket and a good pair of shoes. Happy drinking, pilgrims.

*Yes, it stings a little. No worries. I'll treat the wound right away with homebrew and sunshine.

Warm Water Lambic Café to Close in June.

As Felipe noted here a few days ago, it appears that the cozy Marolles lambic café Het Warm Water may close up shop in June.

A message from owner Lieve Polet on the café's website says in Dutch and French that the place will close in June 2011, although she is looking for a buyer who might choose to keep it open. The Brussel Nieuws mentioned this in September in a brief article (in Dutch), which obviously flew under my radar.

There are too few real lambic cafés in Brussels, and too few bastions of brusseleir dialect. I've written to Lieve in the hopes of learning more. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, should you be in the neighborhood, I suggest stopping in there for some Pottekeis and a glass of Girardin on your way to browse the brocante.

Sour Beer, White Cheese and Sport Finches: LambicLand Re-Launches, at Long Last.

It's a specific kind of devotion that leads you into the Brabantine countryside, where the roads thin out, English and French become as scarce as the hotels, and mass transit may be less than useful. To really explore Pajottenland, unless you speak Dutch, it helps to:

(a) rent a car, because working out the bus schedule and waiting at stations will kill your valuable café time, and
(b) practice your hand gestures. (Hold up empty tumbler so that flatcap-wearing barman can see. Point at tumbler. Hold up number of fingers representing how many glasses of lambic required.)

Tim Webb published the first edition of LambicLand, via his Cogan & Mater outfit, in 2004. It sold out. Two years later I couldn't find a copy anywhere, online or in Belgium. (A few pirates would sell used copies on Amazon for something like $80, but they don't count.) I think it was sometime in 2008 when I finally found one, against all odds, in a drawer at Brussels' Warm Water café.* By then it was four years old. The folks there were kind enough to sell it to me at cover price. It was in perfect condition and still smelled like the printers.

This time, as the Brussels-raconteur-turned-Latin-American-corresondent for Cogan & Mater, I get a free copy. Bias isn't an issue, since I don't really attempt objective book reviews here anyway. It's makes a lot more sense to say, "Here is yet another book you might find really useful." Written by Webb along with Chris "Podge" Pollard and Siobhan McGinn, the pattern will hold: Names, addresses, opening hours, contact information, favored lambics, photos, descriptions of the most random details, and deadpan jokes drier than the finest geuze.

The first edition was bilingual, in both English and Dutch. This one is in English only, perhaps a shrewd calculation based on the troubles of translation and the fact that many Dutch-speakers have been loyal to Cogan & Mater's English-only books. That's what they get for being so damned good at languages.

Naturally I have to point out that Brussels is an ideal base from which to explore Pajottenland, which surrounds the city on three sides. So it would be pretty savvy, I think, to own both LambicLand and Around Brussels in 80 Beers. Sleep in Brussels, breakfast and lunch in the countryside, then enjoy an evening pub crawl back in the city. And never step foot inside a boring place to drink.

Order them now and save yourself the trouble later. Have you heard that Christmas is approaching?

*The Warm Water (one of the places featured in Around Brussels, is a Marolles institution that specializes in Girardin lambic, Brusseleer dialect, and vegetarian grub including typical breakfasts made with local cheeses. It's just up the hill from one of the world's most interesting junk markets.

Not Quite News, Saturday Morning Before I Go to the Beach Edition.

The latest issue of Draft is out, including my non-expert-hey-I'm-just-a-tourist-here postcard from London. (What I saw: Plenty of young people and women drinking cask ale.) That's right: I'm not an expert, I'm a journalist. Which reminds me of John Kruk's famous line, "I'm not a athlete, I'm a baseball player."

There are lots of other cool articles on beer in strange places like Haiti, South Africa, and New York's Lower East Side. (Remember when the magazine about beers of the world was, um, Beers of the World? Maybe Draft is doing its bit to capture the international scene.)

Anyway: I believe the same issue features a Chuck Cook exclusive on the secrets of Girardin, but I haven't seen the print version yet. Takes a while for the mail to get here.

Also: I've updated the link to the Briggsian Belgian Beer Festival Calendar, there on the left. This weekend: the Weekend der Belgische Bieren in Olen.

Finally: Moeder Lambic Fontainas is closing from Sunday to Tuesday this week for some interior redecorating... Specifically, they have decided to make those tables a bit more spacious and comfortable. They deserve much credit and silver for heeding the complaints of patrons. As an aside, when catering to beer lovers it's always a good idea to think large.

Drie Fonteinen to Stop Brewing, Keep Blending, Start Distilling.

Armand Debelder is sleeping better these days, thanks in part to a difficult decision: "I'm not brewing anymore. That's definite." Thus the master blender has concluded a decade of making his own lambic at Drie Fonteinen, a run that included several special bottled beers beloved by aficionados.

The Debelders have been blending the region's lambics to make fine geuzes in Beersel since 1953. Armand started brewing his own lambic in 1999, adding it to the blends that also included Boon, Girardin and Lindeman's. He put his own artful stamp on the beers but also added substantial workload.

Then the events of May 16, 2009 — which Armand simply calls "the Catastrophe" — played the role of fate. That's when about 100,000 bottles of Drie Fonteinen geuze and other lambics perished thanks to a busted thermostat. It was a severe blow to the business and one that had Armand thinking of quitting more than once.

Things looked bleak, but various friends offered support and Armand had a few ideas up his sleeve. One of them, to distill the ruined geuze into an eau de vie, came to fruition. Made at a distillery in Hainaut, the Armand'Spirit is 40% strength, clear as water, and dangerously smooth. The drink launched in October and by mid-December Armand and wife Lydie had already sold 3,000 bottles — half the stock. The liquor has helped the business pay its debts.

Another idea was to hold a "mega-sale" on October 22, to coincide with the liquor launch. Up for purchase were hundreds of bottles of vintage Drie Fonteinen geuze, most of them bottled in 2002. The sale paid off. "Thanks to my vintage geuzes, I have a future again," Armand said.

The decision to stop brewing came down to age and economics. Armand is 58 years old and brewing meant long, exerting days. To continue he also would have needed a new brewing kit. However, "the cost of the Catastrophe was the cost of a new brewery," he said.

Then there is the presence of Lydie, whom Armand married in August. "I'm not a free man anymore," he said with a smile. "I'm not 9 to 5."

Meanwhile, the success of the Armand'Spirit has fueled a new dream: to open a small, working distillery at Drie Fonteinen. Armand and Lydie would use the still to make a variety of special liquors, many in the jenever style.

Looking back on his time as a brewer, Armand said "I had the time to make my lambic and what I wanted to make, and I can say that I made very, very beautiful lambic. And we blended a lot of beautiful things. ... In the end it's not a Catastrophe. Maybe I can make a new start in my life by distilling."

It's worth noting that the craft of distilling is much less work, physically, than brewing. "Brewing is working in the kitchen like a chef," Armand said. "Distilling is like a patisserie; everything has to be correct. ... Distilling is more subtle."

Adding the distillery also addresses a concern: that he might get fewer visitors, since many people come partly to see the brewery. "When people come to see a brewery, they want to see a brewery installation," Armand said. "So I'm losing a part of my attraction. But we will add a new attraction by distilling."

About the geuze: Ideally, it won't change much. Frank Boon in Lembeek has agreed to brew Armand's lambic exactly like Armand made it in Beersel. For example, this means continuing to use Challenger hops, which Armand will still age himself. It also means the same malt and wheat in the same proportions. Thus future Drie Fonteinen geuzes will be a blend of Girardin, Lindeman's and Boon lambics, plus the Boon-made Drie Fonteinen recipe.

So Drie Fonteinen was a blendery before Debelder started brewing his own lambic in 1999, and it remains a blendery after 2009. It may also become a distillery soon. And there is every reason for lambic lovers to continue associating that name with quality.

A Peek Behind Girardin's Curtain, Thanks to Chuck.

Chuck Cook might be the most determined dude in the beer-writing biz. Despite only getting to Belgium twice or thrice a year—his trip itineraries are insane; how does he find the time to stop and drink?—he's managed over the years to get behind the walls of places like Rochefort and Westvleteren.

But his latest coup, I think, is more impressive. Earlier this year Chuck was the first beer writer allowed into the secretive Girardin lambic brewery since Michael Jackson in 1993.

To read about his visit you need to go buy or subscribe to the latest issue of the Ale Street News. Do this now. Besides Chuck's regular column in there you get other goodies like Lew Bryson's truth-laden "Steaming Pile" (this month: "Pumpkin Beers Mostly Suck"). It's a fun paper to read.

A sneak preview: According to Chuck, Girardin grows all its own wheat for its lambic beers. (Lambic recipes are typically about 30 percent unmalted wheat, with the rest usually pale malt.) It also grows barley and sells it unmalted to buy malt. So, basically, most other places calling themselves "farmhouse breweries" can crawl on over and lick Girardin's big rubber boots.

Also: Those beautiful, shining brewing coppers, which anyone can see through the window from the road, are not used for lambics. Instead they're used for the brewery's Ulricher Pils. The lambic kit is tucked away deeper inside the brewery, away from prying eyes.

There's a lot more in the article, and more stories and photos from his visit in the pipeline. But he worked hard for them, so now you've got to do your part and pay up. That's just how it works. Subscribe to Ale Street here.

The photo is mine from a visit in January. Not a forbidden tour, just a stop to buy lambic. Read here about how and when to go and get your own jug of some of Pajottenland's finest.

Swirl, Sniff, Sip, Repeat. Or Just Drink It.

What the hell is wrong with me? It's Friday already and I've failed to mention that one of the year's best fests is tomorrow and Sunday. My friends, this is the Weekend of Spontaneous Fermentation in Buggenhout. That site has all the practical information I could possibly hope to share with you about how to get there and so on. In three languages, no less.

So let's cut through the bullshit and skip right to the beer, shall we?

Draught lambics from 12 breweries and blenderies. Another 11 kriekenlambics (yar, that be the stuff with cherries). How about raspberry lambics from Cantillon and Hanssens, plus—seriously?—a black currant lambic, also from Hanssens.

Drooling yet? We haven't even mentioned the bottled stuff yet, with virtually every offering from each traditional lambic brewery. The really special stuff includes the Drie Fonteinen Schaerbeekse Kriek (local cherries) and Hommage (cherries and raspberries), or the Cantillon Zwanze (rhubarb), 50N-4E (gueuze aged in Cognac barrels) and Lou Pepe series. Plus a few crazy vintages, like the Eyelenbosch Gueuze from 1988.

The geekery commences at 3 p.m. both days.

Where a Lambic-Lover Might Stay in Brussels.

Completely swamped. Finishing old projects and starting new ones. I should be pleased, but I'm too busy to enjoy the thought.

Meanwhile, something I've been meaning to tell you about: the Hôtel Galia. For this place I bend the vague policy of not giving the book away. This has the potential to be the overnight stop for beery travelers in Brussels. Or it could become just another hotel. We need to help it decide. Let's call it a project.

The hotel is on a corner of Place de Jeu de Balle in the heart of the traditionally working-class Marolles neighborhood. Lots of character here, lots of antiques, lots of comic book murals painted on building walls, lots of history. On the square there's an eccentric junk market every morning, a true brocante that is a Brussels institution, where you can peruse or haggle or just observe from a nearby café while sipping your gueuze. It's a 15-minute walk from the hotel to Mannekin Pis, Grand Place and the rest of the tourist center, so the location is solid. Rooms are basic and clean, and the rates range from €75-85 nightly for a double. Reasonable.

But the real selling point for the Galia – for beer travelers – is its own café. A murderer's row of serious lambics is on display: Cantillon, Drie Fonteinen, Girardin and more. Briefly this café was open to the general public – not just hotel guests – but too briefly for geeks to discover it and spread the word.

The problem: the café no longer caters to the general public, officially. At the moment it's mainly for hotel guests fueling up with complimentary breakfast. The lambics are still on display, but who's going to ask about them? Besides me. In fact I do keep asking, and most of them are still in the fridge. But they're endangered. What's needed here is a polite and friendly kick in the ass.

Our hope is that lambic lovers will take notice of this place, come stay here, and encourage them to keep serving the beers. It's a nice place, after all. If the lambics here dry up, nearby café classics include the Brocante, Warm Water and Restobieres – and that's just on one street. But better if these lambics don't dry up in the first place. And better still if the café re-opens to the general public, serving gueuze on the terrace perch well into the day, long after hotel guests have filled up on free cornflakes.

The address is Place de Jeu de Balle 15-16, telephone +32 (0)2 502 42 43, and you can request reservations at www.hotelgalia.com (French only, but you can sort it out). Even if you don't stay here, it's worth a look. They might even serve you a glass of beer, since the other guests don't seem interested.

Sunday Night Football and Old Lambic. Lots of It.

Upstairs in my neighbor's fridge is a 10-liter jug of Girardin old lambic. It is flat, softly tart, lemony, cidery and wonderful. They told us we only had a week or so to drink it before it really goes downhill. We're doing our damnedest. With the NFL playoffs tonight, it's salty snacks and sour beer for us.

The jug is part of our bounty from a productive beer expedition yesterday. Girardin was our first stop. I knew the brewery in Sint-Ulriks-Kapelle was not generally open to visitors. It's famously secretive and doesn't do tours. But I'd heard it was possible to buy lambic there, if you showed up at the right time. I cynically expected this to be some narrow window of time Saturday afternoon, or every third Tuesday after the dog howls at a full moon. Turns out it's open for sales every day except Sundays and holidays. Easy.

The brewery is an old farmhouse, square-shaped with an open courtyard in the middle. From the road as you approach you see two large, gleaming coppers through plate-glass windows on one side. That's about as transparent as this brewery gets. The rest is mist and rumor.

Picking up a jug is like the Pajottenland version of getting a growler from your local brewpub. For the record, a 10-liter plastic jug of Girardin lambic – young or old – will run you €15.80 (plus €10 deposit for the jug itself, but that doesn't count). Do the math on that and you're looking at €1.58 per liter, or less than 53 cents per glass of beer. Just pennies really, for something handmade by real artists and matured in oak for up to three years.

It's a steal. It's bargain-basement beauty. It's exactly the sort of discovery that makes you secretly hope that lambic never again catches on with the general Belgian populace. They'd only drive up the prices! Why cost-conscious Belgian lads aren't all picking up jugs of this nectar on Saturdays, when they have their buds over to watch Jupiler League, I have no idea.

Oh wait, yes I do. It's because they're drinking Jupiler.

I have many more thoughts on Girardin, but I'll save them for future posts or barroom chats. I'm going to steal some more from my neighbor right now. For handy reference, the shopping hours at Girardin are Monday through Friday 8.00-12.00 and 13.00 to 18.00; Saturday 8.00-12.00 and 13.00 to 15.00; closed Sundays and holidays. The address is Lindenbergstraat 10, 1700 Sint-Ulriks-Kapelle.

Ten liters is a lot, by the way. We could use some help. Come on over.

Sly Foxes, Disappearing Drunken Tour Guides, Trumpeteers in Cossack Outfits, and Other Belgitude.

Didn't have to be a bender on Saturday. But plow some fine people with plenty of lambic and €1.50 goblets of Witkap Stimulo, and that tends to happen.

We begin at the Rare Vos café in Schepdaal for some tasty vittles and a unique beverage found on cask there. This place is a bit legendary among the geeks; Michael Jackson wrote about it, Ommegang named a beer for it, and Tim Webb gives it a strong recommendation. The weather is perfect so we're more than pleased when they hide the loud Americans on the back terrace.

Girardin makes a special drink, named for the café, by blending lambic, gueuze (which is a refermented blend of old and young lambic), and faro (which is old lambic with some candy sugar in it). Confused? Me too. I'm not sure how old that base lambic is. But the final product comes out fruity, refreshing, and damned interesting. You can even get mussels cooked in the stuff. Me, I can't pass up the raw ones next to some 3 Fonteinen gueuze. After and before glasses of Rare Vos, naturally.

Then we're off to the open house at Slaghmuylder, where the Stimulo has begun to flow and some odd folk in costumes are carrying in various wind instruments. Inside the brewhouse, an old steam engine chugs away on an alternator. It's not clear whether this is a quaint antique or actually connected to the brewery. We'd like to find out, and a young curly-headed dude offers to give us a tour in English... once he finishes this next beer. Trouble is, he keeps getting a next one, and a next one. So do we. Before long, all hope of a proper tour is flushed down the port-a-potties, and we're lost in a crowd of drinkers enjoying a bizarrely costumed Balkan-style oompah band called Yah Tararah. To be frank, we are unprepared for that level of raw, eccentric belgitude. Somehow I manage to make a short video before we escape.

Finally in a stroke of pure indulgence we stop at the Heeren van Liedekercke on the way home. Yet another legend of beer geekery, thanks to its incredible cellar of vintage Belgian ales. By then I'm loose enough to drop the extra duckets on a special one-off gueuze made by 3 Fonteinen five years ago. This is the intense and ponderous J&J Oude Gueuze Roze. The other members of my crack drinking squad go for cheese and salami, but I'm trying to save myself for dinner...

Dinner? Oh hell, we're having friends over. Nearly forgot. I'm in charge of pairings: 3 Fonteinen gueuze (again? uh-oh) with fresh goat cheese, La Rulles Triple with a spicy Thai squid dish, and Struise Black Albert stout with homemade burnt-sugar ice cream. (Yeah, that's how we roll. You should come over sometime.)

Next morning, I'm trying to think of something better for a Sunday hangover than non-stop Olympics coverage on TV.

Nope. Drawing a blank.