Strolling down a street in old York last spring, we passed an off-license, as one does in England. An "off-license" is a liquor store, but I wanted to sound pretentious. Imagine I said it with a slight British accent, just to get the full-of-myself effect. Anyway, we passed the store and this caught my eye.:
No, not the chocolate stout. Hercule Poirot beer! With the David Suchet version of the character on the label. I just adore David Suchet's Poirot! He's so precise, with his toes pointed forward and his matching gloves and his little vase pin for posies on his lapel and the cord for his pince-nez tucked neatly around his vest button. Then his exasperated rolls of the eyes and his French syntax and his polite manner that draws out all sorts of information. What's not to love?
Well, Agatha Christie said she eventually found lots not to love, but I squeal with delight every time a Poirot episode appears in my mailbox.
Alas, this was not a Belgian beer. Not that the nationality would matter to me, since I must be the only marginal drunk in the western world who does not like beer. Poirot was with me on that. If you pay attention, you will see that he prefers wine and good wine at that.
Nevertheless, a fabulous nerd, one who brews beer, paid tribute to the little Belgian!