Secrets and mysteries

Hazy IPA and barrel-aged imperial stouts are very much the stock in trade at Lough Gill Brewing, and they're generally pretty good at both. Here are the latest examples.

The new New England-style IPA is called Mysterious Haze. It's the standard pale yellow, with custard-grade opacity. Your hops today are Galaxy and Cascade, and the former's orange-accented juiciness forms the aroma. The flavour is rather more savoury, suggesting red onion relish and salad leaves, the fruit showing up late, and briefly. After that swish of marmalade, there's little else to tell you about. While this looks like top tier haze, the flavour doesn't measure up. There's nothing off about it, but I think the hops don't suit it. These recipes tend to use more modern varieties, and that's not simply fashion. Lough Gill's beer don't normally want for boldness, so this plain affair is unusual.

It was only last summer that I encountered new stouts Emerald and Shamrock. The brewery wasn't long getting those into whiskey barrels and now the results are out.

Emerald Barrel Aged brings it across an imaginary style boundary, from an unaugmented 7% ABV export stout to a fully imperial 14.4% ABV. Wut? Did they check if the whiskey barrel was empty before putting the beer in? That's a hell of a jump. Oh wait. "Aged two years" says the can. Is this really based on the beer sold as Emerald? The barrel end of things could certainly disguise absolutely anything. It's very whiskey, with all the warm cereal notes, oodles of honey, and a kick of serious hard liquor on the end. The brewery knows what they're doing, however, so there's still plenty of space for the stout, giving melty dark chocolate pudding and frothy vanilla-laced latte. All of it is hella loud. While it's smooth not spiky, and appropriately rounded and mature-tasting, there's a lot of booze going on; a lot of heat and an almost cloying richness. I detect a little smoke too, the slightly salty iodine of fair Islay, but that's not mentioned on the label so I'm sure I imagined it. Regardless, this is a quality bee eh imp stou. If you like 'em spirit-forward, fill yer footwear.

Jumping from 7.5% ABV to 14.8%, Shamrock Barrel Aged is similarly supercharged with whiskey. I picked up a bit of smoke and little of the added coffee in the original, and that holds true for this version. The coffee is only really present in the aroma, and there it's sharing bandwidth with boozy dark sherry and a little too much soy-sauce umami. The flavour opens on calorific chocolate fudge sauce, though it isn't long before the umami arrives in. That's seasoned with dry oak smoke, overpowering the smooth sweetness and giving it a rasping rough finish. This is a more grown-up affair than the previous one; less like a dessert and more like a riffle through the humidor. It's still luxurious, with a beautifully full and soft mouthfeel, but after the aroma you have to work to find any chocolate, and I couldn't detect vanilla at all. There's a touch of honey from the Irish whiskey's input, but otherwise it's quite savoury. Whether that suits you is a matter of taste: it's still a first-rate imperial stout, one which takes full advantage of the barrel flavour palette. Don't expect much by way of pastry, however.

If anyone out there has first-hand experience of barrel-ageing stout, I would be interested in the technical details behind these massive ABV jumps, and I'll try and find out from the brewery next time I'm talking to someone from there (when's that taproom opening?). For now, they're just beers to enjoy, and don't worry too much about the dark secret of their creation.

A mountain to climb

Today's beers are from the unlikely brewery at the Caisleáin Óir Hotel in western Donegal: Errigal. While on-premises drinking is presumably the main goal, they also bottle and distribute as far as a few select off licences in Dublin. These came from Blackrock Cellar.

GRMA (Irish for "thx"), is a session, sorry, seisiún pale ale, and very seisiún indeed at only 3.5% ABV. It's pretty damn pale too, a wan straw shade with a dusting of unhelpful haze. It smells sweet, and a little syrupy, like a cheap strong lager. If they used any aroma hops, they didn't make it across to the east coast. It's as light as one would expect, and unmistakably watery. Plenty of fizz means it's cleansing and refreshing when cold. There is no hop flavour to speak of, leaving it with an air of pale mild or cream ale, styles I've never particularly cared for. That includes the same sickly syrup as found in the aroma, and a buttery slickness. This last element is why it wouldn't work as a session beer for me: there's an unpleasant smack of diacetyl with every sip, and there's only so much of that I'll tolerate. This needs more hops. GRMA ach ní-RMA.

I had hoped that a bit of hops in that would would help make the weissbier which was to follow more palatable. Oh well. With Bán you don't get a big fluffy weissbier head, making me suspect immediately that they've skimped on the all-important carbonation. It looks a bit sad in the glass, a dusty rusty gold with less haze than the preceding pale ale. There's a passable amount of banana in the aroma, bringing us back towards the style spec, likewise the 5.5% ABV, but that's as close as it gets. Flatness is the first thing that comes through on the first sip: not just flat for a weissbier, but barely carbonated at all. Then there's more of that butterscotch or toffee from the previous beer. Maybe it's meant to be a house quirk, but it tastes like bad beer to me. The yeast-derived banana makes a reappearance in the finish, adding little positive to the whole experience.

For beers in two quite different styles, from completely different brewing heritages, these tasted worryingly similar. I didn't have Errigal marked as one of those rural Irish breweries that turns out beer which is sub-homebrew grade, but I got that vibe here. Now maybe they're designed for a market with less sophisticated and whingey palates, and maybe the proprietor is perfectly happy with the product. But I can't help but opine that nobody's interest is served by beer as poorly put together as these ones.

Dublin's west coast

A couple of weeks ago, I made a return visit to Urban Brewing to see what was new. I'm not sure if it's a positive sign that the big winter beers which were there in December were still on: the Wee Heavy and Winter Stout, though it's nice that more people get to enjoy them, perhaps.

New was an American Cream Ale, a style we almost never see in Europe, never mind Ireland. I'm not much of a fan, but that doesn't usually stop me. It's the yellow-green shade of a Golden Delicious apple and very slightly hazy. The aroma is that of a pilsner: clean, crisp grain husk and a gently fresh grassiness. While there's a bit of lagerishness in the flavour, and moreso in the texture, sitting in the middle is a huge honking mass of perfume or fabric-softener taste. Bleuh. The brewery says they've intended it for session drinking (it's 5% ABV) but before the half-way point of a half pint, I was finding it tough. I had been expecting bland, so getting something actively unpleasant was a shock. This might not be a typical cream ale, but it sure hasn't changed my opinion of them.

The emigration-themed visitor experience next door to Urban, with which it shares a co-owner, occasionally commissions tie-in beers from the brewery, and for the tourist influx of St Patrick's Day 2026, it was Emerald Voyager. The gimmick is ingredients from every inhabited continent, with sorghum from Africa, maté from South America, malt from Europe, and hops from everywhere else. Sounds a bit busy, but I chanced a pint anyway.

What arrived was a murky ochre, and the maté had control of the aroma: dry grass vegetal bitterness. The flavour, however, is very much hop-driven, starting on greasy, piney, west-coast resin. There's a peppery edge to that, meaning it's dry, not the fruity sort of murk. My experience of sorghum in beer is limited, but that's a dry spice too, right? So it may be contributing, although it and the maté are likely being overwhelmed by the hop onslaught. No harm. A daycent hop onslaught is something that the contemporary beer scene does too little of. While only 4.9% ABV, there's enough caramelised malt to keep it in some sort of balance, but balance is not really a feature. The recipe may have been a gimmick, but whoever turned the concept into a beer knew exactly what they were doing.

For the cleansing of the palate, Elderberry Red Ale. Elderberries don't taste of much and neither do red ales, so that seems apt. It's a dark fellow, more brown than red, and smells tart and fruity, like grapes or raspberries. There's definitely a surprise lambic vibe here, early on. It's not sour, and the base beer is very plain. It's earthy and quite watery, despite a claim of 5% ABV, though a stern roasted grain element adds some good, grown-up, character. The berries are layered on top of this, offsetting the dryness a little, with notes of raisin and blackcurrant. I guess this succeeds at what it's trying to be. The fruit side is far from invisible, for one thing. I don't think it's a great beer however, pulling in too many contrasting directions at once. Sometimes gimmicks work, and sometimes they don't.

Last up is a West Coast Double IPA, passing the strength test at 8.4% ABV, but questionably murky, if appropriately amber. There's a sizeable dankness in the aroma, allied to marmalade pith, thanks to Simcoe, Centennial, Chinook and Galaxy hops. The mouthfeel is very thick and syrupy, flavoured with bright orange candy and strongly reminiscent of '00s double IPAs, when the style was new, exciting, and a little bit dangerous. Not that you could quaff this quickly; it arrived ice cold but still packed a hefty density which meant I took it slowly. The flavour brings pith first, clean and sharp, then a thicker resinousness where the hops contrast pleasingly with a syrupy malt sweet side. It tails off a bit after that, and is no masterpiece of complexity, but the palate-coating hop residue is fun, and hitches a free ride home on your lips and tongue. While it's far from concepts like juicy and smooth, this is fabulously retro and enjoyable as much as a piece of recreated history as a beer.

It was a session of two non-contiguous halves, then. Urban has done some righteous and classy hop work with the pale ales here, and while I welcome the off-kilter nature of the other two -- exactly what any brewpub ought to be doing -- those beers didn't work out for me, this time.

Accommodating everyone

Dublin's newly-instated The Hoxton hotel has been in the news for other reasons lately, but it falls upon your correspondent to report that there is also Beer of Interest in the sparsely chic groundfloor bar. Alongside the predictable macro dreck and some Rascals options, they have two lines of their own beer, brewed by London's Coalition Brewing. Des has the goods, of course, may he rest in peace.

There's something very British about lager at 4% ABV. Our lot seem to prefer adding a couple of fractional points when they're doing blonde and fizzy. So Hox Lager tells you by the strength where it's from. Still, it's a handsome looking pilsner: pure gold, Champagne sparkling, and with a very classy grass and herb aroma. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the low ABV lets the flavour down and it lacks a proper malt base to carry those noble hops. The flavour centres on watery fizz and you have to pay attention to catch the brief flash of basil and thyme. A sliver of dry waterbiscuit is as malty as it gets. Still, it's not terrible and doesn't fall into the bland house lager trap. There's a genuine Germanic character here, and crispness to beat the band. Should you wish for a lager with a little more substance, however, Rascals Jailbreak is four taps over.

Matching the lager is Hox Pale Ale, still modestly strong at 4.2% ABV. It's extremely pale and translucently hazy, looking like nothing so much as a witbier. I wonder if the visuals are why I got such a strong lemon tang from the flavour. They've certainly laid on the citrus-tasting hops, at an almost too strong level for the light ale base. That was a shock at first, but I got used to it quickly. This is far more assertive than I was expecting a hotel house beer to be. It's not all acid bitterness, and acridity is avoided via some softer lime oils and a sweetly juicy base, harnessing some of the good aspects of typical hazy pale ale. On the bad side, there's also a twang of gritty, savoury murk, but that isn't allowed interfere too much with the jolly, sunny zest. Quite a pleasant surprise, this, all told. Though at €4.50 for a half pint, it would want to be.

A phrase you won't hear much in Dublin these days is "fair play to The Hoxton", but I think it deserves credit for bringing a couple of better-than-average beers to its taps when it didn't have to; and putting them alongside quality local microbrews. Dublin's hotel boom may be destroying the fabric and character of the city, but maybe a good beer in a comfortable lounge makes it all worthwhile.

A toast

I have come to associate "barrel aged saison" with lambic-like beers. Many's a non-Belgian brewery has turned out beers described as such which had all the joyful sour and oak complexities of geuze. So when I spotted that Ballykilcavan had produced one, I had high hopes.

We're not told much else about An Fheoir ("The Grass"), only that Chardonnay barrels were employed, and it's 6% ABV. There's certainly a geuze level of fizz as it pours, with an almost unmanageable amount of foam. The aroma isn't spicy like lambic, but it is interesting, with a hint of Chardonnay's (in)famous butteriness, a dry layer of clean farmyard straw and an odd-but-fun oily coconut waft.

The oak is especially pronounced in the flavour, and it's not subtle. You get lots of vanilla and a generous spread of the butter. The saison has provided a clean and crisp base, but doesn't present much flavour of its own. There's no sourness, not that the brewery said there would be, and only the faintest Belgian-style spicing. After a moment, the wine materialises, tasting fresh and, er, grape-ish, with a fun little twist of Champagne's melba toast in the finish. 

In my strictly non-professional opinion, this could have done with some extra ageing, to mellow it out. The loud white-wine oak effect risks turning it a little sickly. It's not sickly, but it's no delicately complex number either. The brewery has two more releases to come, of saisons aged in different Chardonnay barrels. It will be interesting to see if and how they vary. I'd have thought Chardonnay is Chardonnay.

Over the barrels?

Time for some more DOT beers. As seems to be increasingly the case, the Dublin-based blending-and-barrelling facility has not blended or barrelled these ones, so what you're getting is straight-up contract brewed beers from either Hope or Third Barrel.

A pale ale starts us off, only 4% ABV, which makes it seem like one of the "Spin Off Series" beers DOT makes for Aldi on the regular. Solas is a standalone, however. It's a dirty greyish orange in the glass, and while it claims to be "crisp" on the label, it's as soft-textured and fuzzy-tasting as it looks. That at least means it's not watery despite the modest strength. The flavour is centred on something that I haven't encountered for a while: the raspingly dry caraway and popcorn husk of some American hop variety or other. That means it doesn't sit well with me. More bitterness, more hop fruit, or more malt substance would have made it more enjoyable. As-is, it's just about palatable but not one I'd be rushing back to. I fully admit that this may be a personal taste thing rather than any flaw in the beer. Please make up your own mind.

The actual Spin Off Series continues with a Saison. It's a light one at 4.5% ABV, and the requisite hazy straw colour. The aroma is brightly zesty, more American hop garden than Belgian farmyard. I guess this is the "modern twist" coyly trailed on the label. It's more farm-like on tasting, with dry burlap and a stableyard funk sitting up front. That's followed by a ripe fruit sweetness, though more the authentic Belgian kind, all lychee and apricot, than American citrus. A puff of white pepper spice in the finish completes the Belgian effect. This is nicely done: complex enough for nerdy sipping, yet still well able to quench the thirstiest of farm workers. It could be one for laying in ahead of warmer days.

DOT then floors the booze accelerator and takes us straight to 8.5% ABV, with Superior Stout. The brewery doesn't have much to tell us, only that it's an extra stout (if a very extra one) rather than an attempt at imperial. The aroma is properly stouty, mixing in dark chocolate, fresh espresso and bitter herbs. In front of this sits a persistent waft of vanilla, telling me the flavour will be sweet. And it is. I mourn the absence of those herbs -- properly bitter strong stouts are a rarity to be treasured -- but the rest remains largely intact. Maybe the dark chocolate has switched to milk, and someone's added a spoon of demerara to the coffee, but it's still well balanced and devoid of silliness. The texture is fully up to snuff too, being full and silky, and the alcohol is well hidden, whether you consider that a bonus or not. I'm guessing that some, if not most, of this batch will become part of something barrel-aged and blended, and if so, it's a solid point from which to begin.

The tragedy is that the pale ale may prove more popular with the drinking public than the other two, which are both better beers. As is often the case with the Spin Off Series at Aldi, this could be some drinkers' introduction to saison, which could conceivably be a gateway to more interesting beers in general. Maybe then the flood of hazy pale ale might recede a little. It's a reach, admittedly, but the thought keeps me motivated.

Big fruit, little fruit

The White Hag made a big deal over the launch of Nektar. It was in the quiet period at the beginning of the year when little else seemed to be happening in Irish beer, so perhaps it was an opportune time to get the attention of the half-dozen people, me included, who give two shits about an Irish brewery releasing something new. Nektar itself was tricky to track down, and when I did, I found it's a peach-flavoured lager of 2.6% ABV. How worthy of attention would that be?

It's hard to see from the photograph, but it looks like... a lager. It's clear and yellow, with a fine and thin topping of foam. The syrup makes its presence felt early doors, with an aroma which is very much nectar: all sweet and perfumey, more jam or jelly than beer. The benefit of a lager base is evident on tasting. While it's very sweet and novelty-driven, it avoids turning unpleasantly sticky by having an extremely clean -- bland, arguably -- basic lager base. One gets to, er, appreciate the fruit concentrate without having it gum up one's palate with residual malt sugar. The low gravity means it's certainly light, though it doesn't tail off into wateriness as I feared it might.

I'm sure this turned out as the brewer wanted it, but I'm not on board with it. It might work as a component in a beer cocktail, or served over ice with a shake or two of bitters, like those ginger beers whose boom seems to be continuing into a further Irish summer. As a straight-up drinking beer, however, it's all candied novelty and no substance. Not for the likes of me.

Imperial stout is for the likes of me. The latest twist on The White Hag's long-established oatmeal imperial stout gives us Black Boar: Orange Bitters Barrels. It's the standard Black Boar strength of 10.2% ABV, and the standard density too, glooping into the glass, the generous head forming at a leisurely pace. I probably shouldn't have been surprised to find it smells like a Terry's Chocolate Orange, but it does: stouty dark chocolate meets oily orange essence. Though rich, it's not hot, and I wouldn't have guessed the strength by smell alone.

Nor indeed the flavour: still no heat. The bitters side is laid on heavily, however, and that's at the expense of the beer side. A beer this dark and viscous shouldn't taste primarily of Campari and soda, but this does. The orange element, while very pronounced, isn't like oranges, but has that bittersweet liqueur quality, a little bit perfume and a little bit candied peel, but tastes nothing so much like the orange bitters from which it's directly derived. There's even a carbonic bite to suggest the fizz, even though the beer itself is too heavy to be fizzy. Alchemy!

It's a bit of fun, this. But it's not a serious imperial stout. While the orange element doesn't feel forced or tacked-on for the sake of novelty, I feel a little put out that it lacks, for want of an actual word, stoutishness. I guess oatmeal means it's all about the feels, and there's no shortage of chewy depth. Just don't look for much by way of coffee or chocolate.

Two very playful beers here, in their own ways. I'm not averse to novelty fruit flavours, but in both cases I don't think they did anything to improve the base beer underneath. The White Hag makes straight-up lagers and imperial stouts which don't need this treatment.