Morte Subite

Conveniently, all of these brewers and bars are within a short walk (however staggering) from The Grand Place, which any Belgian person can help you find.  Everyone there seems to be fluent in at least two languages, and their "broken English" that they seem to apologize for frequently is way better than any French that Sarah or I could stumble through.  Although Brussels is in the region of Flanders, starting any conversation with "Hi-dee-lee-ho, Belgireenos!" is neither polite nor understood.

Back to the beer tour.  Among the other notable sites in this neighborhood of The Grand Place is quaint old bar called Morte Subite.  This is the home of the best kriek we tried.  Like many of the old buildings in the area, all the wood work and brass fixtures will take you back in time 100 years when you walk in the door.  The name means "sudden death" and thankfully has nothing to do with a toxic quality of the beer.  The story goes that the lawyers and bankers who worked in the area would spend their lunch break here, drinking and playing cards, so when the clock chimed for the end of lunch, everyone dropped their cards to determine who was the winner of the final hand.

I don't know what I'm thinking about here, but maybe just listening for the lunch bell to ring.

If you have a hard time finding this, just look for Sarah's place next door.














Next stop -- Atomium?????