Craft Beer Safari in Belgium

Goedendag from Belgium, my hops-loving friends! I've landed in what many consider to be the beer capital of the world, a tiny country with more beer varieties than I have spines (and trust me, I have a lot of spines). Belgian beer culture is UNESCO-protected, which means it's officially as important as the Pyramids or the Great Wall. After a week of dedicated research, I can confirm: this designation is entirely justified. My chlorophyll has never been happier.

I started my safari in Brussels at a legendary beer café that stocks over 2,000 different Belgian beers. Two thousand! The menu is a book—literally, a thick book with categories, subcategories, and tasting notes. I asked the waiter for recommendations, and he looked at me with the seriousness of a doctor. "What are your symptoms?" he asked. I told him I was tired and needed something refreshing but complex. He prescribed a gueuze, a sour lambic beer fermented with wild yeasts, and it was exactly what I didn't know I needed. Tart, effervescent, funky—like drinking champagne that had a wild youth.

The Trappist brewery visit was a spiritual experience. These are beers brewed by actual monks, in actual monasteries, with proceeds going to charity. I visited one of the six official Trappist breweries in Belgium, tucked away in the countryside. The monk who led our tour spoke about brewing as a form of prayer, each step performed with intention and reverence. Their dubbel, a dark, malty beer with notes of raisin and caramel, was communion in a glass. I'm not religious, but drinking that beer in the shadow of a medieval abbey made me understand the concept of the sacred.

Belgian beer glassware deserves its own paragraph. Each beer—and I mean EACH beer—has its own specially designed glass. The shape affects how the carbonation releases, how the aromas concentrate, how the head forms. Some glasses are chalices; others are tulips, flutes, goblets. The waiter at one bar refused to serve me a beer because they were out of its specific glass. "It would be wrong," he said. "Like eating soup with a fork." I waited while they washed one. Belgian beer culture does not compromise.

My most unexpected discovery was the Belgian "wild ale" scene—brewers using traditional lambic techniques but experimenting with local fruits, unusual barrel aging, and creative blends. At a small brewery in Pajottenland, I tried a raspberry lambic that was so intensely fruity it was like the raspberries had achieved their final form. Another brewery aged their beer in wine barrels, creating something that straddled the line between beer and wine in the most delightful way. Innovation wrapped in tradition—that's Belgium in a nutshell.

If you're planning a Belgian beer pilgrimage, pace yourself. These aren't light American lagers—many Belgian beers are 8-12% alcohol, and they go down dangerously smooth. Eat the frites (Belgian fries are also world-class), drink lots of water, and never, ever rush. Beer is meant to be savored here, accompanied by good conversation and possibly a cheese plate. Also, learn to say "Nog een pintje, alstublieft" (one more beer, please) because you'll be using it constantly. Proost, Belgium! 🌵🍺🇧🇪