From Brussels with Love

At the end of last year, I had a nice little weekend in Brussels. The first 24 hours were all about work, running a group of Corporate guests for one of our clients. We arrived into Brussels via Eurostar at midday on Friday, transferred to the city centre, dropped our cases at the hotel and dispersed to various places. Most went to the nearest bar, others checked out the Christmas markets just behind the Grand Place and the main one at Place Sainte-Catherine.

I had a bit of a wander, a spot of lunch, and indulged in a singular beer at À la Morte Subite, one of the city’s oldest cafés and a perfect place to sample a lot of Belgium’s finest beers au fût (on tap). My selection was Westmalle Dubbel, a Trappist beer produced by monks, which I’d had the pleasure of consuming on numerous occasions before. This was the first time I’d done so fresh from the keg rather than from a bottle, and it was sublime, its quaffability belying the 7% ABV. The body of the beer is substantial without being too heavy, and the reddy-brown colour of the beers lets you know that it will deliver a rich, malt, caramel, chocolate flavour, backed up with familiar banana notes which are so prevalent in Belgian Trappist beers.

However, no bananas were harmed in the making of this beer. The aroma and flavour of the fruit isn’t derived from use of the actual fruit itself, instead it comes from esters produced by the yeast in a natural process called biotransformation. There is a very complex scientific explanation of the whole process, but simply put, enzymes in the yeast react to the combination of the alcohol being produced by fermentation and an acid, such as acetic acid. Other yeasts produce esters reminiscent of different fruits—like pineapple, pear, and apple—but Belgian beers can be easily identified by the ripe banana aroma which delights your olfactory senses and provides a pleasant complement to the malty flavours on your tastebuds.

I reluctantly moved on from À la Morte Subite, as I had to get myself ready for dinner with the group that were, by now, assembling in the hotel bar. After a quick shower and change I joined them in the bar, where the only au fût options were owned by the evil global overlords of the beer world, and therefore not on my radar. However, like any self-respecting bar in the city, there is always a healthy stock of Trappist beers in the bottle fridge. I chose Orval—another Trappist monk brewed beer, just like Westmalle Dubbel, but paler and slightly weaker at 6.2% ABV—and enjoyed that while the others worked through their pints of Stella Artois or Grimbergen.

The rest of the evening was spent at a restaurant and afterwards at a neighbouring Irish bar. I’ll gloss over this part, because the beers at the Irish bar where largely forgettable apart from a bottle of Chimay Blue (yet another Trappist beer). When you are hosting a group event, you’re beholden to where the majority of people want to go, so I wrote the evening off, safe in the knowledge that once they had boarded their train home the next day I was free to go wherever I wanted.

Indeed, when they had disappeared through into Security at Gare du Midi, I was on my heels back to the city centre and my first port of call was the brewery site and taproom of a modern Brussels brewery, Brasserie de la Senne. I had made contact with co-founder Yvan da Baets to arrange some time to sit down with him and record part of a podcast episode (my 2025 Christmas Special, which you can find right here).

Yvan, and his business partner Bernard Leboucq, were Homebrewers—a common genesis of many modern “craft” breweries—before deciding to start up professionally. Their first move was to establish a microbrewery in Sint-Pieters-Leeuw, a small Flanders town to the Southwest of Brussels. After two years there, and a measure of success, they decided to move to the city itself. For five years they cuckoo brewed at friends breweries, while they worked to raise the money for their own home. Yvan is very firm in the assertion that they still did all of the brewing themselves and did not contract it out to those borrowed breweries. He has a passion for his craft and wouldn’t countenance not being involved in the process of bringing his recipes to fruition.

They finally found a home in the Brussels suburb of Molenbeek-Saint-Jean in 2010 and their first 100% Brussels-made brew occurred on 22nd December of that year. The resulting beer “Brussels Calling” has since become their anniversary brew. However, it is another beer that defines them in the city - Zinnebir. First made as a Homebrew for the 2nd annual Zinneke parade in 2002, then tweaked a little while being produced in Sint-Pieters-Leeuw and the various loan breweries before they found their city home, the beer is a Belgian Pale Ale, golden and moderately hazy, with a delightful aroma of citrus, spice, and floral notes. You’ll find it in most of the best bars in Brussels, as Yvan says it is the beer that comes to most locals minds when their brewery name is mentioned.

For me, the beer that plays that role is Taras Boulba, and I heard for the very first time about how the beer came to be. This is a 4.5% session beer which Yvan and Bernard started to brew for personal purposes only. Brewing can be very thirsty work and with Zinnebir’s 6% ABV, you can’t have too many pints of it after a hard day in the brew house. So for the team’s post work day tipple, they designed a refreshing saison-style “extra hoppy ale” at 4.5% which was both thirst-quenching and deliciously light and fresh. Guests to the brewery would sample Taras Boulba and wonder why it wasn’t available anywhere else. A few even sneaked some of it out and before long, Yvan was receiving calls from bars asking if they could buy a keg or two of it.

Fast-forward to the current day, and Brasserie de la Senne has a whole host of regular beers that you can find around Brussels and other parts of Belgium, but my advice would be to go to the Taproom at their current—and forever—home on the Tour & Taxis site on the edge of the city, which they moved to in 2019. This is where I sat with Yvan and interviewed him for the podcast - enjoying a couple of their beers while we spoke. Yvan’s commitment to quality and consistency in his beers is immediately evident, and he speaks about his respect for yeast as a “partner” in the brewing process, not just an ingredient. He has even designed his own fermentation tanks to treat his yeast better by hybridising the modern, conical enclosed tanks and the traditional open, flat models. It is clear that he reveres the organism and the role it plays in bringing beer to life.

After our time together, Yvan went off to conduct a tour of the brewery, and I settled in at the Taproom to sample several of their glorious beers, such as the aforementioned Taras Boulba, Brussels Calling, and Zinnebir, as well as their festive special, Schieve X-Mas; a Belgian dry stout called Stouterik; the punchy 8% Jambe de Bois; and an even more sessionable brew, Petit Boulba. Each beer is a masterclass in its individual style. I could have sat there for another hour sampling beers, but dinner was calling, and I headed back to the centre of the city and to my favourite Brussels eatery, Nüetnigenough, a tiny restaurant with seating for no more than 25 people. The queue was already well formed, but I held firm, as I now consider it tradition to visit every time I am in town.

Forty-five minutes later, I managed to obtain a table in the warm interior, away from the freezing cold outside, which was hovering a bit too close to zero for my liking! I selected a fantastic venison terrine to start, followed by Belgian sausages and Stoemp, which is mashed potato studded with vegetables. The beer menu runs for several pages and features a whole host of Belgium’s finest beers, including a few from Brasserie de la Senne, as well as other luminaries of the country like De Dolle, De Ranke, and Brasserie Dupont. There is also an ample selection of Lambics and several Trappist and Abbaye beers. I indulged in a St Bernardus Abt 12 - a 10% Quadrupel brewed in Watou, in the west of the country, close to the French border. The brewery once held the contract for brewing nearby Saint-Sixtus Abbey’s Trappist beer including the once-titled “Best Beer in the World” Westvleteren 12, since 1946 until the licence was revoked in 1992, when the International Trappist Association changed its rules to state that authentic Trappist beer had to be brewed within the abbey walls.

After dinner, it was time for a visit to a few bars that had been suggested to me by others. First up was the recommendation of Elusive Brewing’s Andy Parker - La Porte Noire. A small and unassuming doorway on a cobbled street leads to a red-walled staircase taking you down to the small cellar-like bar, which was crammed with patrons. I chose a De Ranke XX Bitter and found a small table at the rear of the venue, right by a booth which looked as if it was being readied for the arrival of a DJ. I supped at the beer, which lived up to its name and delivered a high bar on the bitterness scale, and looked around at the vaulted interior of what was once the cellar of a 16th-century convent. Shields bearing various coats of arms adorn the exposed brickwork walls, including La Porte Noire’s own emblem - a black dragon. The atmosphere was lively and I felt like I was the only non-local in the cavern.

After I’d finished my beer, I moved a little further down the same street to La Fleur en Papier Dore. It was recommended by Belgophile Dave Atkins, as much for its historic interior as for its selection of beers. This estaminet meanders through several rooms and even features an outdoor terrace, if you visit during warmer months, and featured several more De Ranke beers, of which I had the Saison. Definitely a beer more suited to hot summer afternoons after a day of hard work in the field, but still supremely drinkable and incredibly moreish. Estaminet means a “small cafe serving alcoholic drinks” and La Fleur en Papier Dore fits that description well. Even though the bar is comprised of several spaces, they are all narrow and small, but very authentic and welcoming. The walls are festooned with frames, taking up almost every available inch of space. There is a myriad of items contained within these frames - sketches, photos, oil paintings, brass reliefs, vintage beer ads, collages, and even taxidermied insects. The tiled floor is, in some places, cracked and in need of repair, but the whole aesthetic succeeds in taking you back to the days of when Rene Magritte and his surrealist pals would frequent this very bar. Walking back out into the freezing Brussels evening jolted me back to 2025!

Now, with many beers in my system, I made my way back to my hotel to turn in for the night. The next morning I came back to the city centre for a little bit of shopping. After all, it was December and Brussels was host to several Christmas markets. I felt that returning home with nothing but tales of great beers would not go down too well with my family. With the shopping complete, I had a small window of opportunity to visit one last bar before I had to board the Eurostar back to London.

That last bar—Les Brasseurs, another Dave Atkins suggestion—is conveniently located close to the last batch of Christmas stalls I visited. It is a very traditional bar with dark wood-panelling, and a strong, sturdy looking solid wood bar. The beers on tap left a little to be desired—ABInBev’s Belgian brands such as Jupiler, Leffe, Tripel Karmeliet, and Stella Artois—but their bottle game was strong. I decided to select from the Christmas specials and opted for a beer called Gingerbread Hermit, from local brewery Brasserie L’Ermitage, not realising it was a sour beer. Although my tolerance of sour beers has improved in recent years, it isn’t a style I will favour over others. However, this one was really interesting - a mid-range sour with a festive edge coming from the gingerbread.

Once that was finished, I continued with the yuletide spirit and had a bottle of St Bernardus Christmas, a beer I always like to have during the holidays. Like their Abt 12, the Christmas Ale is a 10% Quad, however, unlike their Westvleteren 12 challenger, it has a slightly lighter body with an elevated spiced friut vibe to it. Just think liquidised Christmas Pudding and you’ll be on the right lines. A sumptous 330ml of beer, for sure.

My time in the Belgian capital was almost up, but I had just about enough minutes left there to head to Biertempel, just behind the Grand Place, to stock up on some bottles to take back home and enjoy at Christmas. 750ml versions of St Bernardus Christmas Ale and Delirium Christmas were naturally amongst them, and they clinked joyfully against each other as I boarded the Eurostar back home, counting down the days until next year’s trip.