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Delirium 

Delirium – The Pink Elephant Packs a Punch.

After sampling two dark Belgian beers recently – not really my thing, though I found them surprisingly enjoyable – the big boss man decided I needed cheering up. 

With a grin, he handed me a bright and cheerful white and blue bottle, complete with a pink elephant on the label. “Stop moaning,” he said. “Try this instead.”

Now, I’ve never tried this particular brand before, but Delirium certainly makes an impression before you’ve even opened it. 

The bottle looks like it’s ready for a party, and once opened, it doesn’t disappoint. 

A smooth golden-brown liquid poured into the glass, forming a fine and stable head thanks to its regular sparkling. 

A quick glance at the label told me it’s a strong one — 8.4%. The clue was right there: Strong Beer! And they weren’t joking.

The first sip delivered a burst of flavour — full-bodied, rich, and incredibly smooth. There’s a gentle warmth that spreads across the palate, the alcohol igniting the mouth just enough to remind you who’s boss. 

The beer has a beautifully rounded character with a slightly malty scent and a subtle spicy edge.

According to the brewer’s notes, Delirium comes in at EBC 7.5, a pale blond beauty with IBU 24.5, giving it a clean but lingering dry bitterness. 

The aftertaste is strong and long-lasting, the kind that makes you nod approvingly after every sip.

In short, this isn’t your casual session beer — at 8.4%, you’d better be able to handle your booze if you plan on more than one. 

But if you’re after something special, a beer to savour rather than swig, Delirium is a cracking choice. I’ll definitely be ordering a dozen for those occasions when only something exceptional will do.

Verdict: A dangerously drinkable Belgian blond with character, strength, and a cheeky pink elephant that means business.

My Score: 5/5

Chimay

Chimay Blue – A Heavenly Surprise in a Bottle.

Now, I have to admit, I’m no stranger to Belgian beer. In my younger days working in London, I spent far too many evenings (and pay packets) at Belgo’s – a restaurant entirely dedicated to the art of Trappist brewing. Mussels, frites, and a dizzying selection of monastic beers. 

Heaven on Earth, if you ask me. I even went to Belgium for a beer weekend once — lots of monks, lots of beer, and not nearly enough self-restraint.

Chimay was always my go-to back then, but my allegiance lay firmly with the Blonde — crisp, golden, and dangerously moreish. So, when a bottle of Chimay Blue landed on my desk for “testing” (tough job, I know), I got rather excited… until I poured it out and realised this wasn’t the familiar sunshine-in-a-glass brew, but a dark beer.

Not usually my first choice. Still, I was asked to sample — and sample I did.

The first thing that struck me was the colour — those beautiful warm, dark hues with a compact, light-brown head put on a spectacular show. 

It looked every bit the serious, contemplative drink one might share with a philosopher by candlelight. 

The aroma was rich and complex: luscious fruity notes mingling with something deeper and comforting — chocolate, maybe even a hint of spice.

The first sip took me by surprise. Despite its 9% strength (which will certainly make you aware of your legs if you have more than one), it felt remarkably light on the palate.

 It begins with a gentle sweetness before creamy caramel and soft mocha roll in, followed by a subtle peppery spice. The finish is pure indulgence — candied fruits with a lingering, warm aftertaste that leaves you with the unmistakable sensation of pure chocolate.

By the end of the glass, I found myself quite converted. 

Chimay Blue isn’t the cheeky, sunlit blond I used to love — it’s her wiser, more sophisticated older sibling. Smooth, deep, and beautifully balanced, it’s the kind of beer that deserves slow sipping and good company. 

My score: 4/5

Hercule

Hercule Stout – A Belgian Masterpiece Worth Investigating.

I’ll be honest – other than Guinness, I’ve never really been one for darker beers or stouts. 

But when I spotted a bottle of Hercule Stout, something stirred in the memory banks. 

I recalled trying one years ago at Belgo’s “Bearadrome” in Covent Garden – a place that prided itself on showcasing the best of Belgian brewing. 

I remember being pleasantly surprised back then, and this recent encounter reminded me exactly why.

Named after Belgium’s most famous fictional detective, Hercule Poirot, this stout feels like something he might have enjoyed himself — sophisticated, complex, and unmistakably Belgian. 

Brewed in small batches and then lagered for ten days in German oak casks, it’s a beer that wears its craftsmanship with quiet confidence rather than shouting about it.

As soon as the swing-top is released, the room fills with a wonderfully distinctive aroma — spicy, woody, and almost resinous, with that unmistakable whiff of fresh spruce. It’s unlike anything else I’ve tried. 

The first sip confirms that this isn’t your average stout. It’s rich and malty, yet surprisingly dry, with just a hint of sweetness at the finish. The balance is impeccable — full-bodied but never heavy, and with a subtle bitterness that keeps it clean and drinkable.

There are no gimmicks here: no added spices, no sugars, just malt and hops working in perfect harmony. The yeast strain and the oak fermentation clearly lend something unique to the character — an almost old-world warmth that’s both comforting and intriguing.

At 9% ABV, it’s not a session beer, but it’s certainly one to savour slowly — perhaps in front of a fire, or while rereading a classic Poirot mystery.

For someone who doesn’t normally reach for a stout, Hercule has a way of making you rethink your tastes. It’s bold, beautifully balanced, and unmistakably Belgian — a true classic that more than lives up to its famous namesake.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Verdict: A dark beer with brains and balance — Hercule Poirot would approve.

My score: 5/5