The Session: Where I'm/It's At.

Well, it has been a while. Since there was a proper Session. Since I wrote a thing on this blog. Glad to be prodded. I think about blogging often, but then that work thing gets in the way, putting me in front of the screen and thinking about beer, until I don't want to be in front of the screen anymore, and then I only want to drink beer and not think about it anymore.

Not complaining. I'm doing well (hey, thanks for asking). We're out on the farm in rural Missouri, about an hour's drive from St. Louis. Easy to social distance here, among the chickens and turkeys and rabbits and beagles and catfish. Lots of space to run the hounds and hunt for morels (found none; only ticks). Lots of room to homebrew (every couple of weeks) and smoke meat (every couple of days). A well-stocked beer fridge. We're healthy. I have a job. I'm lucky. I could do this a while. Tired of the home-schooling, sure, but that's manageable.

No FOMO, because there's nothing really to MO on, is there? Plenty of F, but not OMO.

In the absence of travel and going out, we have a daily family happy hour at 5-ish. Lots of drinking and wanton snacking is getting us through this pandemic thing. What to drink though? Here are some highlights:

KC Bier: a German brewery that happens to be in Kansas City. All German ingredients, decoction mash, spunding, the whole bit. The Helles is basically perfect, with more malt character than most of the thin, pale things that American craft brewers call helles. The Pils is just as good, but with more hops. Don't sleep on the (popular, top-selling) Dunkel or seasonal bocks either. We actually can't get KC Bier in these parts, but my in-laws traveled across the state and brought back several sixers of Pils and Helles, because they are good people. I'm thinking about those beers now, as they sit up there in the cooler. It's comforting.

Make believe: As a family we took a "trip" to "Belgium" a couple of weekends ago. Set up a faux-Belge café. Put on the flat cap. Drank all the gueuze. Snacked on gouda cubes with celery salt while playing Brel. Cooked waterzooi, pâté, moules frites, and shrimp croquettes. Went hunting in the "Ardennes" for a little garden gnome. And naturally we stocked up with whatever Belgian beers we could find locally: Chimay Bleu, Saison Dupont, St. Bernardus 12, and a few bottles of Orval. There were also some large 75cl Duvels apparently bottled in 2016, and now badly oxidized, a taste that does more to evoke random Belgian cafés in my mind than you can possibly know.

Beer Drop: You know, they will just send beer to your house these days. While I'd rather be holing up out here in the country during these weird, weird times, I admit to being a bit jealous of city folk living within the delivery zones of top neighborhood breweries. (Or in the zone of the Churchkey beer shop in DC, which will send growlers of Schönramer Festbier to your door.) There are apps for ordering beer and booze to your house too, but not many of them know what to do with our far-flung address. Found one service though, Beer Drop. Based in Denver and almost entirely breweries from that area but, you know, there are an awful lot of them there. It works pretty much like a beer-o'-the-month club, but you can sub beers out if you'd rather get something else. A bit pricey for what you get, like all such services, but for a while I'll pay extra for the chance to try things outside my geography (no travel, got to cast a wider net) and the old-fashioned, no-it-doesn't-get-old fun of getting a box of beer in the mail.

Rockwell Static

Draft beer, but at home: We installed four taps, including a Czech-style side-pull that was basically the best Christmas present a boy could ask for (thanks, honey). Lately we've designated two taps for commercial beers: 2nd Shift Art of Neurosis (brilliant, undersung, old-school citrus-pine-bitter mid-coast IPA) and Rockwell Static (rich dark lager, landing between schwarz and tmavy, managing plenty of malt richness at 4.7% strength). The latter is on the side-pull. The Art of Neurosis didn't last long and has since been replaced by the helles from Deep Sleep, our local-est small brewery (he's a full-time anesthetist, hence the name, who runs a part-time-pro brewery on the side, and the beers are solid). Moral of the story: Public draft beer is in hibernation, but your local breweries are sitting on lots of kegs they'll probably sell you. If you don't currently have a kegerator, you might currently have time to build one. Haven't you baked enough sourdough?

Homebrew: It's mostly drinkable. Rotating flavors on the other two taps. Playing with Belgian yeast blends, local malt, and plenty of hops. Enjoying the application of judgy critical perspective, followed by figuring out how to do it a bit better next time. Using this ancient ('90s-era) SABCO BrewMagic that still runs pretty well. Maybe the fave so far is an all-Willamette-hopped rye saison-ish thing that's around 4.5% abv and came out nicely lemony somehow. Trying more of that early dry-hopping to get that biotransformation thang going, but doing it with Belgian-type yeasts and non-IPAs. It's fun.

So was this. Hey: I'll try to blog more. But, you know.

One More Road for the Beer: Postcards from the Bar (Wild Card Edition).

We are not slaves to gimmickry. So far each episode has focused on one major city. A fun thing to do, but also limiting, no? What about all those in-between places?

How can we not mention, eventually, cycling around Flanders? Or drinking cask ale in Lancashire? Or the burgeoning beer and food scene in Costa Rica?

Do not answer those questions, for they are rhetorical. The point is, via careful experimentation, we have discovered an elegant answer: the wild-card episode. It's a hodge-podge. It's like a little stack of breezy postcards that take 30 minutes to read in total, instead of just one postcard with 30 minutes worth of teeny-tiny but no doubt very insightful writing upon it.

In this, the seventh installment of our episodic radio-cast program, we talk about cycling around a bit of West Flanders, Belgium; visiting a few traditional/neighborhood pubs in Lancashire; and a blossoming scene for food and beer around my old friend Chepe, a.k.a. San José, Costa Rica.

So, as you can imagine, this map looks different.

Cycling around Poperinge & Watou:
Palace Hotel
Brouwerij St. Bernardus
Wethuys
Poperinge Hop Museum

Lancashire:
Prince of Wales (Chorley)
Bob Inn (Chorley)
Beer School (Westhoughton, Bolton)

Costa Rica:
Costa Rica's Craft Brewing Co.
Treintaycinco
Barrio Escalante
Al Mercat
Mercado Central

And here is Ignacio from Treintaycinco in Ciudad Colon, Costa Rica. Tell him we sent you.

What's Up with All Those Belgian Christmas Beers, Anyway?

The world's best-known festival of Christmas and winter beers happened over the weekend. There they poured 187 different beers -- all made special for the season, all Belgian-brewed. Mind you, there are only about 240 breweries in Belgium. Not a bad ratio.

The Kerstbierfestival is in Essen, at Belgium's North Pole (near the Dutch border). The organizers go to great lengths to source every Belgian Christmas beer they can. Their first was in 1994, when they were able to find 38 of them. At that time there were about 110 breweries in the country.

What we can draw from this? For one, we can see that the number of special Christmas brews has expanded right alongside the number of small, independent breweries. That makes sense. It also makes sense (to me, anyway) that the existence of the festival in Essen has had something to do with it. Brewers know the event and want their beer to be a part of it.

So those are a couple of the possible answers to the question of why Christmas beers have become such a big thing in Belgium. Here are some other explanations I've heard or read at various times:

The faux-historical one: In the legendary old days the Belgian farmer-brewers would have had surplus grain after the harvest, so they would brew stronger ales to enjoy for the winter holidays. It's somewhat plausible and makes a nice story. I haven't found any evidence of it.

Palm started it: In 1947 it released Palm Dobbel, a somewhat stronger version of Palm delivered to clients as a thank you, and also to celebrate the brewery's bicentennial (based on a now dubious date shrouded in mist; in 1747 it would have been the De Hoorn farm brewery, which is older than that). Off the top of my head I can't think of any present-day Belgian holiday beers older than this one. That doesn't make it the first.

No, Artois started it: The story goes that Artois in Leuven introduced Stella as a Christmas beer named, sort of, for the Star of Bethlehem. However our friend Evan Rail has had a look at the brewing records. Trouble is, the brewery had fermentation problems with its earlier batches and didn't release the beer commercially until August 1927. From then on it was year-round. Thus I feel reasonably confident in declaring the Stella Christmas story to be nonsense. (Interestingly, the AB InBev site says it released Stella as "une bière de Noël, respectant en cela une coutume de l'époque," or "volgens de toenmalige traditie." That is, according to the custom of the time. So, maybe holiday beers really were a thing back then. Or, maybe we should be careful not to trust anything found on marketing websites, and this one in particular.)

Blame the British: Senne brewmaster Yvan De Baets -- whose Zinnebir Xmas is one of the best -- once told me his theory that the Belgians got the idea from the British, especially after World War I. This was a time when the Belgians were trying out pale ales and stouts too, so why not Christmas ales? (But as with other consumables, the Belgians have a special way of adding their own panache.) This is a rather plausible theory that also matches up somewhat with the timing of the Palm and Stella stories. If it was a "custom of the time," maybe this is why.

The capitalistic one: It's the money, stupid. You don't need to go to the Kerstbierfestival or fancy bottle shops to find Belgian Christmas beers. You can go to nearly any supermarket in Belgium and find endcap displays full of them. Or you can visit many corner cafés to find table tents and posters advertising brands like Palm Dobbel, Bush Noël, or Tongerlo Christmas, to name a few of the more common ones. They're nominally only available this one time of year, so many customers go for it. Not many brewers want to miss out on that.

More thoughts from De Baets: "As a brewer I can tell you what gets us moving, sometimes at least: We see clients, pubs, making an emphasis on Christmas beers at the end of the year and all the customers having their interest focused on them. So, what do we do? Well, we simply make one also. It maintains a interest in our products, it's as basic as that."

The truth may be some combination of all these things (er, minus the Stella bit): old traditions, good marketing sense, and a whole bunch of smaller breweries well versed in cranking out variety and oddities -- what's one more, to them? Why not join the fun?

It's Daytime in Berlin. Where to Get a Decent Beer?

Let's not make a big thing of this, but Berlin is not really a proper beer city. It's a cocktail city. An all-night, fancy-drinks, then-go-out-clubbing cocktail city.

Yet... this is still the capital of Germany, which happens to be one of the all-time great brewing and beer-drinking countries. So it's a paradox. Meanwhile the city is big enough and lively and versatile enough -- as I've written elsewhere, not easily pigeonholed -- to offer pretty much whatever you want, if you know where (and when) to find it.

Weber

Here is something relatively hard to find in Berlin: Good beer spots that are open in the daytime. By daytime, I mean before 4 or 5 p..m. This ain't Bavaria or Belgium, where it's acceptable to drink a beer with lunch or as part of a leisurely afternoon (or even morning sometimes). For the most part, it's a night-drinking city. Yes it's still Germany, so beer is a staple food. But if we judge these things by opening hours, public day-drinking in Berlin is not all that common. It may be because people are sleeping off hangovers, or else they are, you know, at jobs.

(Prussian virtues? Maybe. Incidentally Max Weber, the political theorist who coined "Protestant ethic," was Prussian. It is sensible to suggest that people should not be drinking in the daytime, because they should be working. This sensibility is unhelpful to tourists.)

In my view, day-drinking is not supposed to be a regular thing. If it were, it would be much less enjoyable. I like it a bit naughty, rather than pedestrian. So, there are times when it's fun and/or useful to find a place where you can do it.

For example: If you are writing a magazine article and need to find a certain type of beer... but you also need to be home to meet the kids' school bus in the afternoon. Hypothetically, of course.

Better example: You're a tourist in central Berlin, on a hard-earned vacation, and can't think of any reason why you shouldn't put on a good beer-buzz during daylight hours.

Just to back up my point, here are the opening times of many of the top beer spots in Berlin these days: Birra, 6 p.m.; Foersters, 4 p.m.; Herman, 6 p.m.; Hopfenreich, 4 p.m.; Monterey Bar, 5 p.m.; Muted Horn, 5 p.m. (3 p.m. weekends).

Right, so I like to be useful. With no further ado, here is an easy crawl -- the North Mitte Mile, let's say -- that might be handy after the museum, or after sleeping in, or while hunting street food, or whatever else it is you like to do while on holiday.

Kaschk

Kaschk: At the Rose-Luxembourg-Platz U-Bahn, less than 10 minutes walk north of Alexanderplatz. This one opens first (8 a.m., or 10 a.m. weekends) so we can start here. Excellent coffee, to say nothing of 10 changing taps and an interesting bottle selection. The beers lean Nordic; it's typical to find To Øl (whoops sorry, that's Belgian) here, besides several locals. They usually have Schönramer Pils, a personal favorite of mine. Daytime also happens to be the easiest, quietest time to use the shuffleboard tables downstairs (when one costs €9/hour instead of double that).

Brewdog: Opens at noon, and serves good from-scratch pizzas. Those who want to eschew it as the Starbucks of craft beer, go on, you won't hurt my feelings. Personally, I go to Starbucks because Starbucks is fucking useful. Same deal here. Nice upholstered booths, pinball, board games, wifi, endless pitchers of water, and 30 taps that balance company beers with interesting guests -- including, it must be said, real German lager most of the time (right now: Gänstaller Rauch Royal, a beautiful smoked doppelbock).

Beereau

Castle: Previously in Gesundbrunnen, this pub is now just down Invalidenstrasse from Brewdog, and bang across the street from the Nordbahnhof S-Bahn station. Like Kaschk, it opens at 8 a.m. (10 a.m. weekends) and doubles as a coffee house -- another potential early starting point. It's also very near the excellent Berlin Wall Museum and Visitors Center. The 15 taps specialize in unusual and local independents; the downside is the price (rent in that spot must be high). I don't stay for long, but it's so convenient I usually pop in for one if in the neighborhood. I can't remember what the house Pils is, but it's decent and costs maybe €3.80 for a half-liter. Compare that to between €6 and €7 for smaller 40 cl measures of the variety ales. Consolation: They have those rotating snack dispensers for various nuts and Pringles. Those are cheap, anyway.

Beereau: Opens at 2 p.m. six days a week, basically at Oranienburger Tor, just off Friedrichsstrasse. Formerly known as Berlin Beer Academy, and still hosting the occasional tutored tasting, the shop/café here has taken on an identity (and name) of its own. Its selection of 300-odd beers are mostly on display in fridges next to the small bar, where there are also a few more on tap (including, recently, gorgeous Keesmann Herren Pils out of Bamberg for €2.50 per half-liter). The emphasis is on local Berlin breweries -- including every Berliner weisse they can get their hands on -- with choice bits of Franconia and international independents. Something for everyone here.

Beereau

A few others to mention: Along the walk from Kaschk to Brewdog (or vice versa), Mikkeller Bar Berlin opens at 3 p.m. Nearer to Alexanderplatz, Marcus Bräu (noon weekdays; 2 p.m. Sat; 4 p.m. Sun) is an old-fashioned, underrated, cozy little brewpub doing it all themselves, while Lemke am Alex (noon) is impressively large for a brewpub, with more choices, but tourist-pricey. Meanwhile nearby Aufsturz (noon) is an underrated arty bar that does some alt-Berliner cooking and about 100 bottled beers that include classics like Schlenkerla, St. Bernardus and Achouffe.

The Bavarian spots: I have no problem recommending these to tourists who only rarely get to Germany and aren't able to visit Munich -- or to anyone, really. Augustiner am Gendarmenmarkt (10 a.m.) offers the real experience, plus spigoted barrels of Edelstoff lager poured starting at 6 p.m. daily; Hofbräuhaus Berlin (10 a.m.) is a big proper beer hall with huge Sunday brunch buffet (kids eat free) and live oompah; while Weihenstephaner Berlin (11 a.m.) is an elegantly wooded, casual restaurant on Hackescher Markt featuring the usual pitch-perfect Hefeweissbier and Helles, among others. And even as I write about them I think, "Oh yeah, I should go there more often."

Highlight #8: Death by Beer Bar in Hainaut.

This one is easy to explain.

The Walloon city of Tournai has a case for being Belgium's oldest. It's got plenty of sites to sight, like the eight-centuries-old Notre Dame cathedral, and a bustling Grand-Place with oodles of cafés.

As a beer town, though, it's sleepy. Most of those cafés are tied houses to various regional breweries offering little in the way of surprises. Among those, the Beffroi and Imperatrice are probably your best bets.

For its attractions and size Tournai ought to do better. There was a bar called Cave à Bière, but it closed and was still shut when I went last summer. (It appears to have been resurrected more recently as a less beery all-you-can-eat rib shack. Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

But we did have a tip, short on details: the Cornwall.

In certain Belgian bars there is an effortless overlap between metal, Celtic, Gothic and medieval. I'm thinking of the Porte Noire in Brussels as an example. Maybe you need to be non-European to understand what I mean by effortless in this context. For us, heavy metal was real but all the Iron Maiden-esque dungeon and torture imagery was really cool euro-fakery. Likewise, we are overly fascinated by castles. But when a European metal bar puts up some medieval weapons and torture implements, it is not only a fake heavy metal thing. There is some history there. Particularly in a place like Tournai.

Not to say the Cornwall is anything like a museum. My point is, its tongue-in-cheek evil is cool and breezy. Of course there are sickles and (fake) decapitated heads on display. Of course there is no actual list of the 150 or so beers. You need to go to the fridges and have a look yourself. Among them were De Ranke, Ellezellois, La Rulles and St. Bernardus. Unfortunately I stuck with the theme and went for a Gruut Inferno, which I think was named for its blazing flavor of alcohol. Followed it with an XX Bitter just to put the fire out.

The combination of death, darkness, youth and tattoos may frighten away the normals but we found it all very friendly. Narrow place though, with just a handful of tables. More action around the bar, and the party does seem to spill outside at times. The address is 14 Rue des Puits l'Eau, opening at 3 p.m. most days and 5 p.m. on Sundays.

The little beer-mat sign hanging under that fellow's neck says mauvais payeur. Deadbeat. In other words, he didn't pay his bill.

That's a highlight from a Belgian beer swing. Will I ever get to #1 at this rate? I have my doubts. Here's an explanation.

I Take the Long Way to Veurne, and There Is a Party On.

Two things I always said I'd do in Belgium, and never did when I lived there: Take the coastal tram from end to end, and visit Veurne. Knocked both off the bucket list on the same day, two weeks ago.

You can have a day pass on the Kusttram for a measly five euro-bucks. I start up in Knokke and ride down from there, popping off now and then to walk the seaside and look into certain cafés that need looking-into. I skip Oostende altogether to focus on the smaller towns along the way. If you can call them towns. At times the Belgian coast looks more like one long, skinny metroplex of high rises, blacklight mini-golf, cocktail bars, and trampolines. I'm there at the beginning of August, smack in the middle of high season. Tots are popping like corn on those trampolines while their guardians throng the beach bars and theoretically look on.

The whole area is ripe for specialist beer bars that know what they're doing. There are surprisingly few. Among those worth mentioning:

Toogoloog in Middelkerke is getting buzz among the geeks, and rightfully so. It keeps a smart list of 120 beers at last count. Recently being the only café in Belgium, as far as I know, to have Dupont Speciale Belge on draft gives you the idea. Naturally, the day I make my coastal swing is the one day a week that Toogoloog is shut. May you have better luck.

In Blankenberge, a block inward from the beach, next to the Casino, is the Royal and its wraparound corner terrace. You are watching crowds rather than waves, but it keeps 150 beers these days, including a couple of saisons and the odd curiosity, such as Seefbier. I make due with a St. Feuillien Saison, again noticing that the brewery has started listing Vitamin C as an ingredient. What's that about? Clever way to say "orange peel"?

In De Haan, a.k.a. the Cock-by-the-Sea, the great advantage of Torre is its location bang next to the tram stop. From my terrace table I can see the schedule of upcoming southward trams. Its card has 52 beers including Drie Fonteinen, hypothetically. My first couple of choices are out of stock so I enjoy an Oerbier and notice that Moinette is on draft.

Middelkerke has the ever-reliable Iceberg, with nearly 100 beers and seaside views. Like many in this region it is a Palm-Rodenbach-heavy list, but this one includes the stable from Gouden Carolus. I go with coffee. The day is long, and so is the Kusttram.

For now I'll leave out another handful of worthy cafés, because I said "specialist beer bars that know what they're doing." I'm not even sure that applies to all the ones I mention above.

The tram ends (and starts again) in De Panne. Now, many geeks will immediately think "Pannepot!" And they will hope that surely someone in De Panne is smart enough to stock it for the odd beery traveler. Well, they'd be... right, as it turns out. The Verloren Garnoare -- yes, the "Forlorn Shrimp" -- is where you drink while waiting for the train. It has Pannepot among its 50-plus beers, which also include Verhaeghe, St. Bernardus and Boon.

My train ride is a short one to Veurne, where a carnival is on in the Grote Markt. It seems I have just missed the town's procession of the penitents by a few days. (If there is anything the Flemish love more than beer, a friend once said to me, it is penance.) A sign says the party also marks an international kayak polo tournament. Initially I worry that I misread the Dutch, and that the reality is surely less weird than an international kayak polo tournament. I needn't have worried.

I check in at the Old House, which I can now recommend (classy and spotless former government building, converted to B&B, with a solid breakfast). It is now evening. Hunger pangs demand that I dispense with a scheme to rent or steal a bike and make for the Kunstemaecker. Instead I go with a local's recommendation: the Vette Os, a candlelit grillhouse attached to a shop specializing in unconventional world wines.

A well-marbled Irish ribeye and a not-so-unconventional bottle of Côtes du Rhône are my guilty pleasures on this night. It is easily the best steak I've eaten in Belgium, and I can recommend it as heartily as any coastal beer café. It's all a bit self-indulgent, but hell... I can celebrate penance and international water polo tournaments with the best of them.

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.

Show Me the Brews.

I'm a Missouri guy, but this isn't a Missouri blog. It's a big world, after all. But several times in the coming weeks you're going to have to indulge me. We're getting ready for a trip home in August and I've got a fat steaming pile of research to do. The notebook spills over into the blog. You know how it goes.

So today my theme is the Cave State. (Ah, now there's an idea: Some Missouri micro needs to start cave-aging their beers, a la Grottenbier. Or Kellerbier.)

Brew in the Lou: For weeks I've been meaning to tell you more about Evan Benn's new book. So here goes: It's not so much a guidebook as a primer on the local beer history and current beer scene. It's exactly what a beer geek would want to read if she were moving to St. Louis and wanted the lay of the land. It's not a reference so much as a collection of feature articles that focus on different themes--from the city's natural beer caves (hello? anyone listening?) to food pairings to future breweries. For sheer usefulness, my two favorite pages are 152 and 153, which include contact details for every present and near-future brewery in the metro area. Evan's writing is lively, there are lots of gorgeous photos, and the book will make you thirsty.

My biggest knock against it: No index. Being able to look up local breweries or beers by name would have added a lot of utility.

St. Loser beer enthusiasts ought to own it. Geeks coming for a visit ought to give it some serious thought. It can be had for 20 duckets from the Post-Dispatch. (Full disclosure: I received a free copy to review.)

St. Louis Craft Beer Week runs from July 30 to August 7, which means that I am going to miss the whole damn thing by exactly one day. That might be why newly christened St. Loser Stan Hieronymous told me, and I quote, "There will be no beer in St. Louis when you get here." So I would like to formally discourage all of you from attending any of these events, and suggest that maybe you should stay home and drink water. Awful hot out there.

Will radio kill the banking computer technician star? My brother Ben Stange is so geeky about beer that he makes me look like a Miller Lite. Down in Springfield, Mo., he's launching a radio show called Beer Buzz, sponsored by Mother's Brewing Company. It'll air at 4 p.m. this Sunday, and every Sunday until he is told to stop, on a couple of local stations and online at TAGsgf.com.

Topic of the first show is hops. His first guest? None other than the aforementioned Mr. Hieronymous. Should be fun.

Christmas is the Best Time of the Beer.

What's your favorite winter warmer? You know: brandy snifter, fireside, beagle dozing at your feet, and so on.

Here's a piece from the Philadelphia Daily News on Christmas and winter beers. He gets a bit ga-ga over Corsendonk, which is OK. Bush Noel and (Heineken-owned) Affligem Noel aren't to my taste, but I guess you can get away with sweet-and-simple in a holiday beer. Nice that Stille Nacht gets a mention.

I can say without a doubt that the best Christmas beer I've ever had is a Stille Nacht Reserva at Kulminator in Antwerp. Actually that's tied for first place with the second time I had a Stille Nacht Reserva at Kulminator in Antwerp. For a sweetish beer Stille Nacht already has some complexity, but with the Reserva the oak performs some sort of Christmas magic that I do not claim to understand. This beer will make you believe in Santa Claus.

Lately I've been enjoying the hell out of St. Bernardus 8, which knocks the socks off of most holiday beers anyway. Rich malt, dark fruit and stewed apples aroma, incredible balance for high drinkability. It fits in the winter warmer category for me. Bought a case and unfortunately I'm tearing through the stuff like it's going out of style. Which it's not. Ever.

My neighbors and I are planning a Christmas party. We aim to celebrate with a keg full of "good wishes" from the Dupont brewery. Want to come?

How to Avoid Beers Made from Cactus and Quinua.

A couple of years ago two friends of mine approached Belgian Beer Weekend on the Grand Place with a perverse idea: a competition to see who can find the absolute worst beer at the fest. After a few trials they arrived at Huyghe's Mongozo Coconut. There was no need to go further. The unique blend of sugar syrup, alcohol and suntan lotion had brought the contest to an end.

But let's say you want to approach this weekend's fest with a curiosity that's less scientific, more hedonistic. You actually want to try some good beer – preferably stuff you can't find in a Belgian grocery store – and annoy your friends by consistently picking better ones than they do.

I can help. Or at least I can cut through the noise on this prolific beer list. Bear in mind that your tastes and your own, so own them. No refunds, no guarantees.

Beer to start with while you make your drinking plan: Easy. Saison Dupont, on draft.

Breweries to try if you've never tried them: Dupont, Verhaeghe, St. Bernardus, Boon, Bavik and De Landtsheer. In that order I think. Trappist breweries: Achel and Westvleteren, since they're all nice but the other four are widely available.

A few rarities and curiosities:

Bockor Foederbier: I've never seen this anywhere. Could be an unblended version of the Bellegems Bruin, a red Flemish sour in the vein of Rodenbach. The word "Foederbier" suggests it's straight from the barrel. Possibly, maybe connected to the Grand Cru Rouge that Bockor made for Ommegang in New York (and thus for Duvel Moortgat).

Chapeau Cuvée: De Troch makes a lot of dumb, commercial fruit beers. But they also make this apparently authentic and interesting gueuze. The St. Louis Gueuze Fond Tradition from Van Honsebrouck is a similar exception. Besides the two Boon gueuzes those are the only serious ones on the list.

Boon Lambic: Frank Boon's aged and unblended lambic, straight from the barrel. Or a plastic jug that was recently filled straight from the barrel. Sour and strange but refreshing. In Belgium it's only found in a small handful of cafés.*

If none of those float your boat, well, we can't be friends. In that case I suggest the Floris Cactus.

Good luck.

*(such as the Belga Queen in Brussels, pictured here, which also has the unfiltered Palm pale ale)