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.

Under the Weather, Yet There is 'Work' to be Done.

Back in Belgium, jet-lagged and somewhat out of sorts. Got a big fest today and a tasting tomorrow, yet I can't tell my allergies from a cold. Can't smell a damned thing. A few good beers are likely to be wasted on me. Beats staying home.

And it must be Belgian Beer Weekend, since it's raining. Oddly appropriate and I don't mind at all. I've got my gear and the wet weather seems to clear away some of the casual drinkers. Just got to watch that the raindrops don't smear my notebook.

Last year I wasn't able to talk my way into the pre-fest ceremonies. This year I had no problem. I will be there to witness the consecration of the beer at the cathedral, the knighting ceremony at the city hall, and the "solemn inauguration" of the beer stands. That last one is the best—a blatant way for us VIPs (ha!) to drink for a while before you plebes can enter.

Need ideas for what to try? The list has a lot of chaff. How about St. Feuillien Saison, a dryish farmhouse ale that's getting good reviews. Or the Bockor Cuvée des Jacobins, a reddish-brown sour ale that Bockor uses as a blend in its sweeter beers. (This is likely the same as the damned interesting Foederbier I tried last year... Seems they are getting wise and marketing it a bit, especially for export to the U.S. Yet the Bockor team still seems to think that Belgians can't handle sour stuff and would prefer the sweet fruit beers. More on that another day, hopefully sooner rather than later.)

A couple of mysteries to me: The St. Feuillien Leon and the Verhaeghe Barbe d'Or. Both unknown names from solid breweries. Meanwhile the Maneblusser from Anker, a 6% blonde ale aiming to be the signature beer of Mechelen, is getting some hype.

So there are a few interesting things to try, besides some reliable things to drink—Saison Dupont, Timmermans Oude Gueuze, Petrus Aged Pale, etc.—if all else goes awry. Just hope I can taste them. Sniff sniff BLOW. Don't drink from my glass and please excuse the used tissue poking out of my coat pockets.

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)

Put This Post in a Barrel with Some Wild Yeast and Forget About it for a Few Years. See What Happens.

Barrels. Wild yeasts. Sour stuff. That's what's new and hot in craft brewing these days. But those are old magicks, aren't they?

The Bourbon Barrel-Aged Angel's Share from Lost Abbey in California just won the gold medal for best American cask ale at the Great British Beer Festival. There are a growing number of sour ales on RateBeer's excitable Top 50. (And if you adjust that to include retired beers you'll see several more lambics.) Several people have found this blog just by searching for the words "Dirty Horse." And thanks to those successes we'll be seeing more and more breweries experimenting with barrel aging and wild yeast in the next few years.

Maybe it represents a return to old knowledge, old ways. Wood and air instead of steel and laboratory yeast strains. Or more accurately, the best of both worlds.

Have young guns like Lost Abbey in the U.S. and Struise in Belgium surpassed places like Cantillon, 3 Fonteinen, Verhaeghe, Rodenbach... I don't think so. Apples to oranges, maybe.

That doesn't matter anyway. This does: There is a hell of a lot of interesting beer out there to try. Your new favorite could be just around the corner.

Cab Drivers Say, "My Friend!" But They Don't Mean It. I Do. My Friend.

Belgium's population of 10 million is close to that of Michigan, which has about 75 breweries by my count. Most of them are little brewpubs. Belgium has about 120 breweries.

My point: This little bitty country has a lot of places that make beer. Not all of them are very good. But there are enough good ones that, even if you're a beer geek living here, it's easy to forget some of them for a while.

Then you come across one of their beers again, and it really fits. It's fun. Like being with an old friend you haven't seen lately.

Like me and Verhaeghe. The old Duchesse was one of those beers that blew me away when I first tried her. She blows a lot of people away. In her class of Flemish sours she's the one after Rodenbach most likely to succeed. But we mature, we move on, we become enamored with other beers and other breweries. Weeks go by, then months. We reminisce but don't revisit.

Not until a different bottle catches our eye at the local drinks market. This one says "Caves." This is one of Verhaeghe's lesser-known beers, which is a shame. It should be right up there with their other sours, which are among the tastiest made anywhere. Including California.

This bright reddish-brown beer has an intensely vinous and fruity nose with an impression of sour cherries. It's a tart yet thirst-quenching beer, lightly acidic. It's begging for some creamy cheese or shrimp croquettes to scrub off your palate.

By the way, Verhaeghe's Echte Kriek and Vichtenaar are also damned tasty and interesting beers. Refreshing too. If you see one of them, warmly invite her into your home. And afterward... do try to keep in touch. My friend.