I'm falling for the blonds

We're back on the whirlwind of travel. Since the flamingos in the Camargue, we've been to Antibes (near Cannes, a few days ahead of the filmsters); Liguria in Italy, not far from Nice, up on the mountaintop where Susan's sister Julia and Dudu live, among the medieval villages perched on the sides of mountains; Dusseldorf, where Susan's brother Sam lives with his family, Amsterdam and environs, and now in Brussels. We've gone from the places where wine is served with all meals to where beer is served with all meals and at snacks. I'm by no means a beer maven. I like a beer once in awhile, but often find that a beer makes me tired, so over the years, I've avoided them except for accompanying pizza and Mexican food, and to be social.

I challenge anyone to be in Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany without falling in love with the beer. As with wine and cheeses, I find that I can't remember the names of the ones I like from sitting to sitting. In Provence, I got accustomed to ordering the Cotes du Rhone or Cotes du Luberon wines, but couldn't tell you from which vineyard or town. The cheeses in the markets were so numerous and I wanted to try so many that I couldn't remember the ones I liked.

Belgian beer is world famous. And I'm finding out why. Beer accompanies lunch, late afternoon apertif, and dinner. In my world of beer there has been lights and darks. And perhaps I'd order a Pilsner or Lager on occasion if I wanted to seem like I knew what I was doing.

One day, Susan ordered a Duvel beer. A blond Belgian beer. I had ordered something else -- perhaps something dark, I really don't remember. When I tasted her Duvel, I was in love. It was smooth. Not bitter. A deep rich taste. Gorgeous color. Great curves. (In Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany each beer is served in its own distinctive glass). Next time, it was me that ordered the Duvel. And since then I've tried the blonds on the menu. Each has been great. Each with its own taste, but as a family, these Belgian blonds have captured my heart.

Susan thinks we can find Duvel back home.  I hope so!