All of which, as I said, is appropriate grounds to consider the offbeat nature of Belgian beer.
It's not enough to define Belgian beer as any beer that's made in Belgium; that doesn't narrow it down at all. After all, there are more than a dozen distinct Belgian categories - from sour Flemish brown to sweet dubbel - that seemingly share little in common. A lambic tastes nothing like a witbier, which tastes nothing like a tripel, which tastes nothing like a farmhouse ale. Heck, even within the category of Trappist ales, you'll find thick, malty Rochefort 10 and hoppy, funky Orval. Duvel, Saison Dupont, Lindemans Framboise, Chimay, Stella Artois, Hoegaarden - they're all popular Belgian imports, but they hardly taste alike.
Yet, beer drinkers frequently refer to the Belgian beer as if it has a distinct, recognizable flavor.
What they're tasting, I think, is mainly the yeast - possibly the least understood of beer's main ingredients.
The microorganisms that convert sugar (malt) into alcohol and carbon dioxide also create chemical compounds known as phenols and esters. These by-products produce some of the telltale aromas and flavors that build the character of beer.
We don't notice these compounds much in mainstream lagers, because their "clean" yeast strains are cultivated to reduce their output. Ale yeasts, by contrast, are intentionally designed to produce high levels of esters, which typically have a fruity (apple, citrus, berry) aroma, and phenols, which have a spicy (clove, black pepper) character. Think about the banana aroma of a German wheat beer - that's the yeast at work.
Most commercially available Belgian yeast strains accentuate those compounds. Brewers then push them even further by raising the fermentation temperature.
