I love Belgian beer. Not just the big Trappist stuff, but Wits, Belgian Pale Ales and Belgian Blondes. And, of course, the lambics and Flanders sours. I had appreciated a good Belgian for years. Then I took my BJCP exam and my attraction grew. But the love affair really took off during a 3-week trip to Belgium in 2007. Way too many unbelievably delicious Belgian ales of all shapes and sizes – all fresh and served properly (except, maybe, for that Jupiler I had at a subway station kiosk – which I had to have just for the experience of drinking a beer at a freakin’ subway station!!). It was on that trip that I realized just how wonderful and unique Belgian styles were.

Since returning I have actually been harder to please with Belgians. I won’t ooh and aah over any new Belgian beer put in front of me. I realize many are good but not great. Others overdo the spice or leave too much residual sweetness behind. Some try to Americanize the beer, toning down the fresh citrus and pepper in a Wit, for example.

But that doesn’t diminish my admiration of how Belgians brew beer and the fantastic potential that emerges from their adventurous approach to ingredients and fermentation. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying they are the be all and end all – many cultures brew fantastic beer that I would climb a mountain to get to – but you have to admire the Belgians quirky approach. Spontaneous fermentation. Yeasts that intentionally produce phenols. A tendency to add peels, crushed spices and plants to the beer. High alcohol, sugar-laden beer with flavour. Plus they have drunk monks!

I raise this because I recently published a two-part series on Belgian beer in Planet S – a rare back-to-back  for me. I talk about the main Belgian styles and what makes them unique. I discuss process a bit and mostly describe how unique they are. It may seem basic to those of us who are intimately familiar with the region, but for many beer drinkers I hope it serves as a nudge to give them a try.

You can read Part One here and Part Two here.

One of my regrets in the series is not mentioning that Paddock Wood – as the columns were published – had TWO Belgian style ales available. Their Winter Ale is a Dubbel, and the latest in the Sherbrooke Beer God series, Silenus, a Tripel. If only I had been thinking when I wrote them. Sorry, Stephen. My bad.

In honour of the great skill of Belgian brewers, and to lament the fact that since June 2010 Belgium has not had a functioning government (the parties have been deadlocked in negotiations for almost 18 months!), I suggest we all lift a glass of our favourite Belgian beer and toast the monks and monk-wannabes that make fantastic beer.