Where's your hops at?

Back when new Irish pale ales cascaded onto the market on a near daily basis, I started a programme of reviewing them in big batches, for efficiency. Today, new ones still get collected this way, but it seems to be taking longer and longer to gather enough for a new substantial post. I began drinking today's baker's dozen in early March.

First up, it's a brand new brewery for me. Great Eastern Brewing has been running a taproom bar in Wicklow Town for a couple of years now, but this is the first time I've seen their beer canned. It's called simply Citra Pale Ale and is 4.3% ABV. They've gone haze, and quite a deep amber colour with it. The aroma is bright and fresh, all zested oranges with a hint of vanilla. Although it has the proper roundedness of hazy hoppy beer, it stays light, and the flavour is beautifully clean. It's a simple one: just mildly bitter citrus again, and a degree of oily herbal resin. It shows that this was created for a brewpub as it's very sessionable and quite undemanding, but at the same time is a well-made example of what it is, with no brewing flaws or poor recipe decisions, something that isn't the case for every fledgling Irish brewery. Great Eastern appears to know what it's doing and I wish it well.

I've had various versions of the TwoSides summer pale ale on here over the years. Two Yards: New Zealand Pale is, by my count, the ninth they've done, brewed as usual at Third Barrel. The ABV is a non-changing 4.3%, and it's pale and hazy: another core feature. We're on the frivolous side of the Kiwi hop harvest here (Motueka and Nectaron), with the brightly tropical aroma. The flavour follows up with an almost intense pineapple candy sweetness, alongside guava, cantaloupe and passionfruit for good measure. Low strength means a quick finish, but it's clean, with no grit or dregs. The best versions of Two Yards are sunny sessioners, made for al fresco pints at Brickyard. This edition is absolutely one of those.  

Wicklow Wolf has done another of its collaborations with companies that aren't natural collaborees, this time it's Outwest, a clothing firm, and the beer is a "west coast trail ale" which seems like it might fit. It, too, is called Outwest, and is 4.5% ABV. The clarity is top notch, pouring a bright and sunny golden. Floral perfume and sweet ripe summer fruit form the aroma, and there's lots of concentrated flower action in the flavour. That gives it quite an intense taste, and not in the citrus and pine manner I was expecting. Although the beer is light, I found it a little tough to drink, the perfume gumming up my palate while the pale malt doesn't provide the cleansing crispness I think this beer needs. It will have its fans but it's not for me. More fun to brew than to drink, perhaps.

Galway Bay, in collaboration with American brewery NoFo, has created a self-proclaimed tribute to New Zealand's hops, with a pale ale called Southern Weather. It's a pale and hazy affair, in the modern fashion, and a full 5% ABV. The aroma is fabulously tropical, with promises of passionfruit and pineapple fully delivered on by the combination of four Kiwi hop varieties. That's where the flavour opens, too, on a bright cheery chord of harmonious fruit salad. A slightly more serious herbal bitterness follows that up, where I think the NZ Cascade and Nelson Sauvin take over from Motueka and Pacific Sunrise. None of the effect lasts very long, however, and it all tails off into watery fizz a little too quickly for my liking, especially given the fluffy haze credentials. It's very enjoyable while it's there, however, so I'm not really complaining. As a hop showcase it performs the task it has been given very well. 

Is there any phrase more stirring to the human soul than "retail collaboration"? DOT's latest is with Martin's Off Licence in Fairview and is a New England-style IPA called Fully Charged: 5% ABV again. Pale and hazy? Check. It looks like thinly-spread lemon curd and smells like a beachside cocktail bar, a mélange of diced tropical fruit turning ripe in the sun. It's a psyche-out that the flavour opens with citrus: a sharp ping of lemon zest. The New England side takes a moment to catch up with that, eventually adding the mango and mandarin from the aroma, and the vanilla custard from the style spec. Bitterness reasserts itself in the finish, where the chewy pith and pine resin send us on a short trip to the West Coast. Because I liked this, I immediately went hunting for flaws, but all I could come up with is a very mild rasp of chalk or grit, and I really had to look for it. This is a hazy IPA for the sceptics: full of the bitter charms of "proper" IPA with a distinctly New England tropical seam and minimal brewing flaws. If you normally eschew this style but are willing to give it an occasional chance, and if you're in the Dublin 3 area, give this one a shot.

May Bank Holiday saw Ballykilcavan farm hosting the Greenfields music festival, and the brewery created The Greenfields Festival IPA to mark the occasion. It's an amber fellow; lightly hazed and 5.5% ABV. Not much happens in the aroma, beyond a light citrus spritz, and the flavour is similarly understated, at first anyway. The gentle lemon notes fade quickly, but before I could decide it's a damp squib, there's a growing and persistent bitterness -- earthy and tangy, suggesting Cascade hops to me -- and then a dry tannic quality. I'm reminded a little bit of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, albeit with a little less punch. The decision to make it on the strong side for the style was a wise one: there's full-bodied smoothness here, without which it might run the risk of turning harsh. As is, it's a very decent and classically formulated American-style pale ale, one which doesn't need to be kept icy cold, and can be quaffed quickly or sat over, as the occasion demands. Ideal for an outdoor event, then, but pretty good in general. 

Citra, Mosaic and Sabro are the hops which Third Barrel has put into Shout!, which sounds very much in the brewery's wheelhouse, and likewise that it's a 6.8% ABV hazy IPA. "Juicy" says the label, and it smells intensely sweet, though more of vanilla and orange ice pops than pure juice. The flavour doesn't exactly pop with juice either, but does something more grown up instead. There's a wide seam of pithy citric bitterness, overlaid with oily coconut flesh and a fine dusting of ground black pepper, adding a heat that's part alcohol and part yeasty spice. The sweet vanilla arrives late, dampening the bitterness and softening the beer's whole effect. It works. This is hazy with balance, showcasing bright and fresh hops, but in the cuddly, fluffy context of modern murk. It would be hard work to find something to dislike here.

The latest in Kinnegar's limited edition series is Brewers At Play 49: Fresh Hop West Coast IPA. "West Coast" I can believe, because it was brewed in Donegal, but I suspect "Fresh Hop" is a reference to the very unfresh processed hop product that Yakima Chief is currently shilling. Words used to mean something. 5.9% ABV is blousey for an Irish IPA, though low for authentic west-coast. I liked the medium amber colour, however, and can forgive the slight mistiness: it's unfiltered rather than hazy. The aroma brings a beautiful combination of lightly toasted malt and an earthy, spicy Cascade effect, doing a great job of channelling the mighty American IPAs of yore. The flavour expands on that, with an almost gunpowder level of sparky spice: piney resin meeting smouldering incense. There's a fresh(ish) oily citrus quality, and a sweeter side that's not quite crystal malt's caramel, but a gentle layer of golden syrup or runny toffee. While I wouldn't say it's balanced, its tilt towards the hops is beautifully done. I remain sceptical about the "fresh" claims, but as a representative of the west coast revival trend, it's a flag-carrier. Get some of this if you miss those old resinous beauties.

Rye River's Miami J hazy IPA is a regular spring fixture, but this year they've given it a new hairstyle, using Prysma as product. It's a "liquid hop flavor platform", which doesn't sound very steady, but claims it can make the beer taste of all the hops with none of the bitterness. That seems like a good idea for hazy IPA. The problem, however, is that the beer isn't all juicy and tropical. It's gritty and savoury, which creates a different kind of bitterness, while the sweetness is all vanilla esters and no fruit. I looked hard for some hop brightness but none was forthcoming, and I found only a weird raw and leafy green vegetable twang. This isn't the first time Rye River has used Miami J as a laboratory for BarthHaas's processed hop products: they did it back in 2022 as well, with similarly underwhelming results. This is altogether too rough and earthy to be enjoyable as an IPA, let alone one with purported hop superpowers. Back to basics for 2027, please.

I drank that back-to-back with Whiplash's Acid Raindrops, a collaboration with Seattle brewery Feast Fashion: similarly 6.5% ABV and just as pale and hazy. Comparison was inevitable, and this has a similar level of vanilla sweetness, but lacks the dreggy grit which marred the previous one. Still, hop fruit isn't a big part of it. A little peach, maybe, but thoroughly drenched in cream. It's extremely smooth and glides off the palate, leaving behind only a faint peppery spice. €5.75 for the can isn't extremely expensive by the standards of these thing in these parts these days, but I would have liked more depth of flavour and more proper hop impact. This doesn't deliver on what I understand to be the principal thing which hazy IPA is supposed to do -- big fresh hops -- and falls down in a quite stereotypical way for the style. It's not offensively bad or anything, but does get filed with the other low-energy beers Whiplash has been turning out recently. And no, I don't think some proprietary hop extract product will help that.

Brewers from Nautile in Nantes were in Dublin recently and one port of call was Hope, where they contributed to the brewing of an IPA. Groac'h is named after the Breton sea-witch who, legend says, curses anyone who makes smeary AI images of her. The can doesn't tell us what kind of IPA it is, so it was a surprise to find it amber coloured and mostly clear. West coast? Damn straight. The pithy aroma is an early giveaway; sharply citric, with added crisp leafy vegetables. No fruit salad here. An authentically American 7% ABV gives it weight and depth, but the flavour is not about that malt. A hard, raw, invigorating bitterness is the main feature, including all the typical elements in parallel: zesty lime and grapefruit, oily pine and fresh spinach leaves. And while it may not have the pleasing crystalline clarity of the best West Coast IPA, the modest haze makes no encroachment on the flavour. You can take it from me that this is old-school IPA of the best kind. The anti-haze mob should be buying it in quantity -- who knows when we'll see this sort of beer again?

The latest hazy IPA from Lineman is an IPA called White Noise. It's a full 7% ABV and moderately murked, topped with a head of rocky white foam. The aroma is broadly tropical, but very similar to a million other beers of this type. Citra, Ekuanot and Maui Nelson are the hops, the latter of which is a new one for me. Turns out it's not a hop, but another of those fancy extract products. Its manufacturer says it delivers pineapple, and pineapple is very much delivered in the flavour here. It's not extremely sweet, which is good, but it's not exactly multi-dimensional either. Apricot and white plum, maybe? Otherwise it's quite a generic tropical character. Which isn't to say it's a bad beer. This is beautifully refreshing and dangerously session-coded. Once I gave up trying to pick the flavour apart, I was quite content to neck it, and enjoyed doing so. This is a super-clean IPA brewed to Lineman's usual high standards, and aptly named.

In the absence of any double IPAs for this round, I'm finishing on a black one, again from Lineman. I Might Be Wrong is 6.5% ABV and headlines Citra, Mosaic and Columbus hops. I thought dankness might result from that, but we seem to be on the New England side of black IPA, alas. There's no hard bitterness, and instead a softer peach and plum flavour with a seasoning of red summer berries is all that the hops do. Similarly, there's little by way of roast, only a mild toasty bite at the very end. Where you get your money's worth is the texture: it's beautifully smooth and very easy to drink. That's not what I, personally, want from a black IPA -- give me the bite -- but I accept it's a valid approach. Black IPAs are rare and to be treasured, not nit-picked. But maybe ramp up the dank next time, yeah? For me.

I'll draw a line under proceedings there, and hope there'll be enough for another round-up before too long. On a statistical note, this is quite a good showing for the west-coast style beers. The revival seems to be bubbling along steadily, which is a positive sign.

Confession and confusion

Having made a bit of a fuss over Tallaght's Priory Market, and its built-in brewery, when it opened last summer, I was overdue a revisit. I stopped by on a recent Friday afternoon to find it's all still there and going, though no longer thronged by the crowds from its early days. The good food and fresh beer all still feature, I'm happy to say.

The final outstanding beer from Priory Brewing's advertised relaunch line-up is Confession Bock. This proved very much on the dunkel end of the bock spectrum, a specification it meets with its dark garnet colour and 5.8% ABV. I'm ever wary of too much vegetal hop bitterness in bocks in general but this emphasises the caramel malt instead, almost to doppelbock levels, with an extra dose of invigorating coffee roast. The hops are present but restrained, bringing a mild tang of celery and damp lettuce, clearly signalling that authentic noble hops have been deployed. It's almost but not quite sticky, and well-balanced with properly integrated flavours, the way actual German breweries do it. Warming for a cold day yet light-bodied for a warm one, this is ideal spring drinking, and a welcome addition to the core range.

New on tap was Oktoberfest Kolsch [sic]. I don't know what demented committee process came up with this. As though the name wasn't incongruous enough, it's only 3.3% ABV. Huh? It does at least look like Kölsch, being a pure and clear pale golden. Not much happens in the aroma, but is that a soapy twang? The flavour confirms a slight detergent note. It might be from the glass, and normally covered up by the beer flavour, because there's really little else going on in here. It's not quite crisp, being a little flabby, but least it's not watery. There's maybe a hint of rustic grain husk or burlap, though I had to look hard to find it, and the soap twang was stronger. This is, at best, extremely bland. Far be it from me to say nobody wants to drink this sort of beer, but I don't see what they were trying to brew here. If it's simply to make a beer that's pale and low-strength, I'm sure there are better ways to go about it. I hope it has a short tenure and is replaced by something that's up to the usual Priory quality.

Maybe this demonstrates the wonderfully varied spectrum of brewing in the German vernacular. Priory at least provides plenty of choice in that direction.

Bréif encounter

Today's beer is a coda to Monday's post about the Mullingar beer festival. This bottle was very kindly suitcased all the way from Cavan by Mr Thomas Carroll. Bréifne Gael Brewing is, I think, Ireland's newest brewery, and possibly the first legitimate one in Cavan in the modern era -- I never saw any evidence that Ó Cléirigh ever troubled themselves with acquiring a licence.

Ór Dubh is the name: "Black Gold" writing a big cheque for a 4.3% ABV stout. It doesn't say if it's bottle conditioned but there looks to be a bit of murk in the brownish black body. A head forms on pouring though fades quite quickly. That doesn't stop it from having a fabulously chocolatey aroma, suggesting the classy high-cocoa sort. It's light and sparsely carbonated, and the chocolate takes a backward step in the flavour. Not that it's any way bland. The vestiges of chocolate meet a raspberry-jam fruit seam and a super-clean dry charcoal roast. So, there's complexity to pick apart for those who indulge, but it's first and foremost a refreshing drinking stout, light but uncompromised, and brilliantly sessionable, as this kind of beer should be.

I've been a bit down on the half-litre-bottle squad of Irish country brewers lately, but this is an exceptional exception. It does taste like homebrew, but in the sense of a brewer who has honed and refined their technique to make the best possible beer. I found it totally devoid of amateur production flaws and poor recipe decisions; managing to be both straightforward and familiar while also top quality drinking. I have no idea if and when I'll get to try more Bréfine Gael beer, but should you happen across any, I'd suggest buying and drinking it.

Backroom barrels

Ireland's most bijou beer festival returned to the rear of Smiddy's Bar on a glorious day in late April. Combining two previous themes of the event, this was officially the Mullingar Wild Beer & Cask Festival, although willd beer was a little in short supply, with Third Barrel shoring up that bulwark by serving a couple of its well-established (and delicious) Brett beers.

On the cask side, Rough Brothers of Derry was a new addition. I encountered their IPA at the CAMRA festival in Belfast last November. I said it was clean and simple but unexciting, and that's very much the case for their Northern Pale Ale as well. This is only 4.5% ABV, but I'm fully aware that other cask brewers can do a lot, flavourwise, within that parameter. This offers a clean and crisp base, like a cream cracker or water biscuit, and then an extremely mild hop bitterness which threatens to become actually citric but never quite manages it. My guess is they're going for something retro with these. They have the simplicity and inoffensive drinkability of beers from a time when decent people didn't comment on their flavour, or lack thereof. Maybe there's a market for that, but since the brewery is operating in the speciality beer space, and showing up to events crawling with fussy beer nerds, they ought to be giving us beer that tastes of something more.

Their Co. Antrim neighbours have tried to show them this too. On the wicket between the Rough Brothers flagships was Texture Like Sun, a 3.8% ABV golden ale brewed at Our Brewery with Rough Brothers input. Very little about the spec suggests it'll be more full-flavoured than a pale ale or IPA, but this benefits from Our Brewery's tendency to dispense with style guides and just make things nice. It's not golden, for one thing, being quite a deep shade of amber. And it's another dry and crisp one, so don't expect golden ale's typical honey or soft fruit. Instead, the signature flavour is a spicy kick, suggesting black pepper and rocket leaves to me. For the strength there's very good substance -- thanks, cask -- and enough malt sweetness to balance the dry spicy side. This, too, is a very straightforward and drinkable beer, but the flavour complexity places it leagues ahead of the Rough Brothers' solo efforts for enjoyment.

Although there was plenty of other highly enjoyable beer, my last new tick was Scéal. This pale ale is brewed by Trouble but has mostly been sold under the Spiddal River contract brand at The Skeffington Arms in Galway. I think the format didn't suit it terribly well -- or at least the part of the format that sees a cask beer being set up and tapped on the same afternoon. It was murky looking and a little muddy tasting, the assorted flavours blurring into each other. Still, there's some good stuff in there: sweet Seville orange, some dark chocolate, dry minerals and even a little gunpowder spice. An old-school American bitterness adds bite and prevents it turning mushy and flabby. And even though the flavours aren't exactly cleanly distinct, there's plenty of them, and the overall boldness of the full-colour taste spectrum makes it an excellent beer. Your mileage may vary with the keg version, but I would love to see this on cask again, though cleaned up.

Thanks as always to the brewers, organisers, fellow-attendees and everyone else who made this unlikely event happen. The Irish beer festival circuit is barely more than a few dots these days, so I'm glad this one is still going.

Non-conformists

Czech brewery Zichovec didn't get the memo that high-variety craft beer is out and reliable-but-dull heritage beer is in. They're still churning out a vast array of different styles, with influences from all over. Today I have three of them.

First up, it's another of those purportedly Irish-style beers from a foreign brewery, a genre I find endlessly fascinating. This one is called The Irish Black, and is a stout, at 4.6% ABV. No nitrogen is involved but it still formed a very full head, with a dome and all. The aroma is plain-spoken but nicely roasty, with a pleasing dry charcoal buzz. That's there in the flavour, alongside a metallic tang of old-world hops, but there's an unwelcome sweet side too. It's a little like the caramel one finds in Czech dark lagers, but more intense without the lager cleanness, coming across here as almost saccharine. I wouldn't say it puts this beyond the style boundaries of Irish stout, but at the same time, it isn't a good one. It's just too severe, and needs softening, either with less bitterness or some element of chocolate malt. Still, it's nice that they gave it a go.

In the middle is Orange 'N Choco, and... I expected this one to be dark. "Orange sour with oranges, tonka beans and cocoa nibs" reads the description, and in the glass it's a thick, opaque, earwax-beige colour. 18° Plato makes it 6.5% ABV, and it feels appropriately heavy. Despite the juicy appearance, it smells fully chocolate-like: the dusty dry powder from a tub of just-opened drinking chocolate. That's quite a disconcerting sensation, but a fun one, all the same. The flavour begins with orange-juice acidity, then quickly flips to the drinking chocolate. The two contrasting features hang there for a moment or two before the big greasy tonka adds its cinnamon pastry warmth, as it always does. The sharpness -- which I took for part of the orange side but is presumably derived from a souring culture -- lands back in at the end and forms the bulk of the finish: a hard and flinty mineral effect, still holding plenty of citric acidity. It's all over the place, this, and while I liked it, I admit it's completely daft and will not suit those who prefer their beer to taste of beer. As a kerr-azy novelty brew, it works quite well, avoiding tasting cheaply gimmicky, succeeding at high-end gimmick instead. If that was the intention, fair play.

We go back to black with Coco Noir, an oatmeal imperial stout with coconut. Lots of carbonation in this one, resulting in a huge tan-coloured head and requiring two pours to get all of the can's contents into my glass. Said contents included some suspended floaty bits, somewhat ruining the look. Coconut doesn't mess about, and of course the beer smells strongly of it: the moist and fleshy sort, not dried. The texture is gorgeous, all silky-smooth despite all the bubbles, and I would never have guessed it's as strong as 9% ABV. The coconut in the foretaste is concentrated to the point of tasting almost like solvent, and then there's a softer background of fairly-dark chocolate and a rasp of dry roasted grain to finish. Amazingly for a strong novelty-ingredient beer, there's no aftertaste: the cleanliness of the finish is impressive, though I'm not sure it's entirely welcome; I like a big stout to be something that stays with me. It's a minor complaint, though, and this is excellent overall. It's fun, and possibly even balanced, with the various flavours respecting each other's boundaries well.

A lot of surprises in this set, and none of the beers were quite what I expected them to be. That's all part of the fun of craft beer, however. I'll miss it when its last vestiges finally die.

Big flippers

Scouring the lower beer shelves at speciality grocer Polonez turned up these two beers, from Lithuanian conglomerate Aukštaitijos Bravorai. Both are in distinctive flip-top one-litre bottles. A big commitment, but that just shows the effort I go to for you.

Keptinis is first, and I know enough about Lithuanian brewing to tell you that that's the style rather than a beer name: a traditional brewing method which involves oven-baked malt. That it says so on the label in English steals my nerdy thunder somewhat. It also says it's an unfiltered dark lager, and I'm not sure if that's part of the spec, but it is helpful.

In the glass it's a murky red-brown colour, with a thin and fine head of off-white bubbles. Few beers have an aroma as malt-forward as this, smelling like nougat, Mars bars, and assorted other confectioneries which rely heavily on malt extract. Thankfully it's a lager, so while the flavour goes all-in on malt sweetness, that's set on a pristine clean body, feeling very light for 5.7% ABV, though a long way from thin. Caramel, vanilla, condensed milk and praline chocolates all feature, plus a little red fruit complexity, hinting at strawberry or raspberry. How it doesn't cloy is wizardry. Instead, it tastes wholesome, warming and nutritious; refined rather than rustic. A litre was much less work to get through than I expected.

I'm in the dark as regards the meaning of Magaryčių, but the brewery helpfully tells us it's a dialect term for the celebration after success in negotiation. Seems legit, given some of the nonsense that passes for beer names these days. The description on the label says it's "unfiltered special technology semi-pale beer" which I fear may have lost something in the translation. There's caramel malt, though: that's made clear.

The beer, conversely, is not. It's that unattractive muddy shade you get when a copper coloured beer is left unfined. I suppose it's meant to look rustic, but to me the colour will always carry associations of bad homebrewed bitter. Other people's, obviously. The aroma tells me that it's not dissimilar to the previous beer: warm malt loaf with a hint of runny toffee sauce. At 5.8% ABV, it's very slightly stronger than the last one, and is similarly weighty and malt-driven. Paradoxically, it's a little lighter, however, with more of a lager crispness (ie a tiny amount) and even a faint echo of hop bitterness. It's fine, but I drank these in the wrong order. Everything Magaryčių does, the Keptinis does bigger and better.

Something to be said for traditional brewing practices here, perhaps, even if it takes a big-brand company to show it. Fire up the oven.

Of age

It's only Tuesday, so just a modest celebration for this blog's 21st anniversary. I've pulled out a bottle of Insulator, a barrel-aged barley wine released last winter by Lineman. I've had a differently-barrelled version of this before, back in 2021, and this one is Margaux wine. The ABV remains a decidedly wintery 14.8%.

The visuals aren't lovely. It's a muddy red-brown, though has a tight snowy head on top. The aroma makes it very clear that wine is involved, smelling richly of plums and raisins. A warming, fresh-baked cookie waft is present too. The fruity high notes take a backseat in the flavour, which pushes dark warming cake or pudding first, then bitter liquorice and nutmeg spice. After that, the fruit is back: sultana and orange peel, with a little fresher raspberry tartness. Not that this is in any way a summer beer. The booze isn't exactly concealed, and the malt is concentrated and emphasised, exactly as the words "barley wine" imply.

It could have done with a bit more cleaning up, and maybe some more time settling would have taken care of that, as would a larger-format bottle. It's still very good, however: packed with complexity and working well as a special occasion beer.