Belgium’s role in craft beer’s rise is evident on the menus of some of New York’s better restaurants. The bill of fare for the Modern at MOMA lists 12 bottled beers, seven of which are Belgian style. At Gramercy Tavern, the Belgians make up 13 out of 23. (Both restaurants are part of Danny Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group, but each establishes its beer list independently.)

“Our beer menu doesn’t play second fiddle to the wine list,” asserts Kevin Garry, the assistant beverage director at Gramercy Tavern. Last November, Garry put about 2,000 bottles of beer in the wine cellar as part of a vintage-beer program. When a wine critic came to the restaurant with some friends for a quick meal, Garry showed him the vintage-beer list. “They were there for four hours and ended up trying almost every beer on the list.”

When Coors decided to enter the craft-beer market, in 1995, it went Belgian. Brewmaster Keith Villa had just returned from the University of Brussels with a doctorate in brewing chemistry. “Coors saw the craft-brew movement starting to gain traction,” says Villa. “I was given an assignment to develop a new craft beer.” The result, Blue Moon, is arguably America’s best-known Belgian-style ale. It aspires to be a craft beer—the label doesn’t say Coors—but its provenance puts it firmly in the industrial sector, and the Brewers Association, which represents American craft brewers, doesn’t consider Blue Moon a craft beer.

Like wineries, craft breweries are usually small operations with strong regional associations. This was evident at Brewery Ommegang’s Belgian-style beerfest in Cooperstown, New York, this July. Attendees walked, then stumbled, from table to table with small glasses, tasting Belgian-style offerings from across the Northeast. Simon Wurst, from Wolaver’s, a Vermont brewery, was pouring an organic ale made with unmalted wheat from a local farm. “There is a renaissance now where people are trying to support the farmers as well as the local brewers,” he says. “We’re pushing to get farmers involved in getting us barley. We’ve been talking about having local coffee roasters roast the barley.”

The night before, a couple from New Paltz, New York, attended the beer dinner, seven courses paired with various Belgian-style ales. They spoke about their interests—guitars, motorcycles, and, of course, home brewing. They were most excited about the last beer of the night, a special batch of Ommegang’s kriek. (“Don’t ask,” said the menu. “It’s not for sale at any price.”)

American-made krieks are difficult to find, and this one had a dry, champagne-like acidity cut through with sweet Belgian cherries. If it were wine, a one-off like this might have fetched hundreds of dollars. But it was beer, and when it arrived at the table in a plastic pitcher, no one seemed to mind.