By Greg B.  After I finished my conferencing and working in Cambridge, I managed to escape from the UK via high speed train (there really is no other way to leave that nation but the fastest!) and headed towards Belgium.  I was by myself and looking forward to a few weeks just bumming around parts of Europe, eating interesting foods, meeting interesting people and sampling what I hoped were the best beers in the world.  And this was certainly a great place to start!  I mean honestly, if you think beer and Europe, most people immediately think Germans drinking various pilsners and dancing polkas while eating brats and large pretzels.  This is a perfectly acceptable stereotype, and one I will explore later in my next post about Germany.  But if you wanted to explore more complex beers, there is no other place to go in Europe than Belgium.

It took longer to get from Cambridge to Brussels than I anticipated.  While Europe is not large, sometimes you have to go out of your way to get where you want to go, via train.  While I partly wished I had taken a ferry from the UK to Belgium, using one of the high speed trains was a nice alternative.  While I was validating my Eurail pass, I had to deal with the French ‘customs’ almost, in order to book the train ticket.  Now, I’ve received the same comment from two French people in the USA, who are independent of each other.  But when the woman at the counter saw my last name, she commented “Bissonette, do you speak French?”, to which I have to reply “no, unfortunately not”.   At this point I always get the same remark from the French ex-pats and (apparently) the same response from the French in Europe “that is a shame, with a name like this, you should know French!”.  It’s almost motivation to go ahead and embrace my French heritage.

While I sat on the train, with the high speed rail gaining momentum towards France across the cold, crisp and bright fall day I actually felt great.  Anticipation for the upcoming experiences, the pleasure of knowing some of the trip was planned, but that most of it was going to be invented along the way.  And I felt great about leaving the UK and heading to mainland Europe.  So much so that when I heard French people on the train speaking in French, I almost swelled with pleased anticipation and yet a sort of calm happiness.  I was leaving my comfort zone as far as languages are concerned (I can really only get by with Spanish, and occasionally English) and I really just looked forward to the next few stages of the trip.  The time spent inside the chunnel on the train was minimal, and within a few moments we were in France.  Surveying the countryside from the rail car, I could see exactly the stereotypical French countryside that one expects.  Farmland, occasionally dotted with red/brown roofed houses, rectangular in shape in the middle of an enclosed yard.  Trees with silver leaves were shimmering in the breeze as the train flew past, looking very much like aspen leaves.  However, my calm, enjoyable trance-like state was abrutly shattered when the speaker on the intercom, in about 10000 decibels, began speaking in ear piercing French.  Almost immediately, realizing I was in France, I felt a sudden and unexpected urge to get up and drink some wine.  Stereotypical, but whatever.  So I made my way towards the bar car, and bought a rather expensive bottle of wine.  A 2008 Chinon for 4 Euros.  And while I needed to satisfy this urge for wine in France, this wine quickly put me back on track for beer.  A glass of thin bodied, sour, young, weak and watery wine was both a rude awakening and also a reminder:  I came here for the culture, the food… and the Beer.  I downed the glass of wine, and checked out the trains beer selection.  Kronenberg 1664.  In a can.  I opted to not pay for this beer, but rather to wait for later, when I arrived in Brussels.

12-09-09, at 14:03, my train arrived in Brussels.  I walked outside, enjoyed the slight chill in the air, the bright sun and navigated the crowded staging area outside the train station and searched for a Taxi.  The taxi driver, Godfried, was extremely pleased to meet an American as it gave him a chance to practice his English but also ask questions about the USA.  He was from Rwanda, but had been living in Brussels for the last decade and was this Christmas to visit his sister who lives in Ohio.  Our interaction was very pleasant and helpful, as he pointed out some interesting landmarks along the way to the hostel.  While it’s difficult to grasp a city on your first ride through it, I later tended to stumble upon some of these areas. Godfried knew what he was talking about!  I arrived at my hostel, the Hello Hostel, at 1 rue de l’Armistice.  From the outside, there was just a giant door, and I wasn’t very impressed.  Especially since this would be the first hostel I was to stay in.  But once the doors opened, I saw it was run by a bunch of energetic young folks, was clean, organized and well run.  I was given a room on the second floor, shown where the bathrooms and showers were, given a pamphlet about what to do in case of a fire (this was slightly un-nerving.  Exactly how often do fires break out in hostels?  In any case, I had quickly made up my mind: I was going out my window and jumping down.  Everyone else can queue up and in an orderly fashion perish in the smoke/flames. I’m bailing!) and left to my own devices.

When I checked into my hostel, I happened to meet a girl who was also checking in, Shanwei (but as a US citizen, I got her Americanized name, Carol).  She was a rather spunky girl, in college, up for a good time and interested in getting the most out of her backpacking through Europe trip.  There might be nothing someone who enjoys beer and beer pairings likes better than a captive audience who actually seems interested in the topic, so we decided to go explore the inner city, check out some museums, sights, foods and just see what the afternoon/evening presented us with.

As it turns out, Brussels is just the city where interesting things happen.  We took the train into the city center (the hostel was located very conveniently near a metro stop, not 2 minutes up the road) and immediately were presented with a crowded, moving, vibrant city.  People were moving in every direction, speaking every language, dressed in every kind of clothing.  With Shanwei leading the way, we rushed over to see le mannequin pis, the famous fountain of the little cherub boy peeing (it’s actually a rather small statue… but more on that in my Antwerp post).  Grabbed a Belgian waffle from a window of a store on a corner and ate it while standing on a corner watching a man earning money by having his dog perform tricks (the dog was pretty good actually).  After this, we walked up the the Grand Place.  I figured, given the name, that it would be, well, grand, but I didn’t imagine how grand.  It’s an incredible sight to be standing in the middle of a giant market/court right next to the ‘town hall’, which is certainly one heck of a town hall by any standards.  Shanwei was anxious to check out a museum, since she had limited time in Brussels, so we just happened to be near the “Brewer’s museum’.  How fortunate!  Downstairs we went, paid the few Euros for an entrance/beer tasting fee, and walked inside.

The museum itself was not much, just a few bottoms of very large fermenters, some old bottling paraphernalia and a video with a  few chairs set up to watch about the beer process.  However, with our tokens we did get two beer each to sample, and walked into the noisy and crowded bar up at the front of the museum.  I imagine if Americans had more bars in our museums, I dare say we might have many more people interested in spending a day inside.  The beer was delicious, I started off with the “Special’ which was excellent.  A deep mahogany color with big tan head, yeasty, cool, bready and malty.  It was about the smoothest and most flavorful thing I had consumed on this trip so far!  The second beer I tried was the blonde, a light golden color with a lagerish aroma, fruity esters and a cool crisp and refreshing taste, though the finish was still rather malty.  It was awesome. And while the beer itself was great, I had, unbeknownst to me, walked into a crowded bar full of, what they called themselves, Belgian Marines* (I starred this, because I don’t actually know what was going on.  Everyone was dressed as if ready for a military campaign in the year 1830, some kind of class A style uniform with large red scarves, even the statue le mannequin pis was dressed up.  But if you do a quick google search for Belgian marines, the first link is actually the US marines.. and a quick scan through searched for the Belgian Navy produces a navy, but no old uniforms I can see.  So who knows who we were drinking with).  When we left the museum, we went off in search of dinner, as per one of my professor’s recommendations, to Chez Leon, for the best moules frites in Belgium.

And I think the recommendation was accurate.  We actually stumbled upon the restaurant by accident when we were walking up towards the Grand Place.  It’s on a very busy and crowded side street, more like an alley way, full of restaurants, tables, chairs, people picking and people trying to speak to you in several different languages to get you to eat at their restaurant.  Unfortunately for them, we already knew were we wanted to go, and Chez Leon had a table on the alley just for us.  At this point, I was famished, I had basically only eaten a bit of a waffle and two beers all day, and I think Shanwei felt the same, so we began to order like crazy.  I ordered a tomato aux crevettes grises… a tomato that is hollowed out and stuffed with tiny shrimp, then topped with mayo (it’s delicious), an order of filet Americain prepare en salle, which translates to a giant plate of steak tartare (it had to be a solid pound of it beef, and I’m probably underestimating the weight by 50% or so).  For meals, we ordered a ‘complete leon’, which had moules aux vin blanc  with chives, and a side of fries, complete with a beer of your choice.  I started the meal out with what I was soon to learn would be one of the most common beers in Belgium, the Mort Subite, a more sweet version of gueze with still carrying a nice bit of acidity to make this a great food beer.  Shanwei ordered a biere Leon, which Chez leon brews themselves.  This was a dramatic yellow color with minimal head, but some fruity character that made it a nice accompaniment with the tomato aux crevettes grises.  The Fillet Americain was a pretty decent tartare, mixed with nice capers and a good mustard flavor coming through.  It was very light and soft on the mouthfeel, which made it all too easy to just continue eating it (especially with the fries… for which there were free refills!).   The Mussels were also delicious, not a single one of them had any grit or sand what-so-ever.  And not a single mussel was unopened or cracked to the point of distrust.  While this restaurant is massive, you can tell they put effort into their food, more so than many other places I’ve eaten mussels.

We finished our meal pretty quickly, as we were very hungry when we started, and by the end we had a chance to look around (and still pick at the steak tartare).  I don’t believe I’ve seen so many different people walking through such a narrow alley way.  Middle eastern people, Asians, Americans, Italians, Germans, people from Latin America.. and a ton of people were smoking pipes as they strolled, seeking out the perfect restaurant to enjoy their dinner.  It was great.  After we pair our tab, we walked back to the Grand Place while en route to a beer store just down the street (I was absolutely going to see if I could find any Westvletern), when we were met by a massive parade.  Apparently the Belgian navy was out in full colors, marching band, parade, flowers were being thrown and hundreds of people were around watching.  Oddly, they were playing the tune to the US Marine Corps’ anthem, but we stayed and watched for a bit just people watching and taking in the spectacle.  Once the event was over, I popped into the beer store to find they had no Westvletern, but I did find they had many beers that I had not had in the USA… which meant it was time for a tasting!  I purchased a bottle of Waterloo double 8, and Shanwei and I went for a nighttime stroll through Brussels.

One thing that amazed me about Brussels was how it constantly had events happening.  Everywhere you turned, there was something interesting and novel.  As we walked back towards our train stop we held up at a small park, while I popped the cork on the Waterloo 8.  While I cannot give it a fully beer review, on account of having no cups and drinking from the bottle, I have to say it is an incredibly liberating and civilized feeling to be able to drink in public (though it is not civilized to pay to use the public restrooms, that seems rather barbaric).  But just sitting outside on a mildly chilly late summer evening with a bottle of very malty, caramel tasting beer was a great taste of actual civilization.  Around this time, we hear some extremely interesting sounds coming from behind us, a few blocks away, so we picked up and headed towards it.  In front of the opera house, a stage had been set up and there was Mongolian Opera being performed.  If you’ve never heard this, as I hadn’t before this event, it’s astounding.  These singers are able to hit multiple and varied notes what sounds like simultaneously.  Now if you can imagine 4 people on stage, playing cellos and other Asian string instruments, each singing and acting out events in an Opera but in simultaneously different pitches…it’s damn amazing.  Words (at least mine) fail at describing how interesting and unique this is.

During the Opera event we made some Belgian friends, who at the intermission, got up and ran to a beer store to buy us beer.  I couldn’t imagine a better, or more fitting ending to my first night in Belgium.  Good people, a little odd but well meaning, great beer, great food and interesting events.  Fortunately for myself, I had 4 more days in Belgium, and plenty more to exploring to come!