22 May 2017

Advanced for his age

Dublin's DOT Brew celebrated its first birthday with a slew of new barrel-aged small-batch beers, brought out to meet the public in Idlewild (and later Abbot's Ale House in Cork) a few weeks ago. The Idlewild event was fun, with only three lines dedicated to the selection so turnover was quick. If only life could be like this more often.

First of the newcomers was Teeny Tiny Barrel Aged Pale Ale. As the name hints, this is a mere 3.5% ABV. The barrels in question are Chardonnay, where it spent 9 months and the resulting aroma is fantastic: a sumptuous juicy white grape ripeness. I was down to earth again with the first sip of the clear gold liquid: it opens with quite a harsh pine sawdust flavour, which I'm guessing is the oak at work. The Chardonnay fruit does come out increasingly as the beer warms, and delivers a refreshing tartness in the finish, but after a while the fruit and the wood become overpowering. There just isn't enough heft in the underlying beer to counterbalance them. It's a fun experiment, but one which could do with a little fine-tuning next time out.

The next beer also highlights its smallness, going by the name of Baby Bourbon Birthday Barrel, though there's not much babyish about its 6.2% ABV. It poured black and headless, giving off a husky woody aroma with a pinch of vanilla thrown in. That develops beyond a pinch in the flavour, with vanilla becoming the dominant feature. The wood calms down and it's all very gentle and chocolatey after that. Great dessert drinking.

Tequila Saison was next on the roster. This is light and clean, saison as it should be, founded on dry grain husk flavours with a burst of white pepper spice right in the middle. The tequila has definitely made its mark on it, and there's more than a hint of that sweet prickly pear fruit flavour that's particularly prominent in the likes of Sierra Nevada's Otra Vez. The novelty feature doesn't dominate, however, and allows the beer to maintain its classical saisonosity. There's a lightness of touch here that belies the frankly unreasonable 6.2% ABV.

From a 6.2% ABV beer that tastes light to a 6.5% ABV one that tastes much much stronger. Cherry Choco Bourbon Dark leaves little to the imagination, being a dark ale aged in bourbon barrels with added cocoa nibs and morello cherries. It gets great value out of all that, resulting in a veritable sweetshop of flavours, opening on Parma Violets and Highland Toffee bars and moving through Opal Fruits, Refreshers and even a Bounty. Though thick and quite oily it's light enough to not get cloying as the multifaceted flavour kicks in. This is a sensation and would really shine in bottle form.

The final beer is a big-hitter at 9.5% ABV, named Cab Sav Malt Rye, based on a brown ale with three kinds of rye and double barrel ageing: the Cabernet Sauvignon followed by Irish whiskey. It tastes very strongly of chocolate, so much so I was wondering if it had got mixed up with the cherry chocolate one. There's a bit of cherry fruit character, but boozy, like cherries soaked in port. You end up with something along the lines of Mon Cheri chocolates, which is great 'cos I love them. The texture is light despite the high strength, and despite the roll call of serious ingredients it's an incredibly fun beer to drink.

I tend to be quite sceptical of advanced barrel-ageing with weird ingredients. For a lot of brewers it's just gimmickry, at best well-intentioned, though sometimes I suspect only done to make the name of the beer look awesome when written down. But this set from DOT has, for the most part, really got the best out of the barrels used. Hopefully we won't have to wait a year for the next set.

19 May 2017

Smooth moves

Three beers from Dano-Belgian contract brewers To Øl today. To begin, the continuation of a series of soured pale ales, a style of beer I've become very partial to. Sur Citra follows Sur Amarillo which I enjoyed last year. Just like it, this one is a hazy orange colour and the aroma is understated, hinting gently at the citrus and sourness to come. The tartness leads: first sip produces a round juicy acidity, a bit like an oude gueze but without the oak-and-nitre complexity. The Citra adds a little lime zest to this but doesn't compromise the smoothness. This is a light Sunday-jazz sort of sour beer, not a jangling punky noise-bomb. It's easy on the palate and very accessible. Substitute your brunch Bellini for it; serve it to guests arriving at your wedding reception; give it to someone who thinks they don't like sour beer.

The latest in the set is Sur Sorachi Ace which I happened across at the Abbot's Ale House bar in Cork on the way back from the Easter festival. They've messed with the formula a little here, raising the the ABV from 5.5% to 6.5% and introducing Brettanomyces yeast. All of the elements delivered in the flavour are exactly as promised in the dark orange beer. The orange peel zest that is Sorachi's hallmark is the headline, with the askew coconut hit coming in behind. Running counter to this there's a pronounced, but understated, funk from the Brett which manages to integrate into the flavour without stealing focus from the signature hop. Once again, it takes a daring set of contrasting tastes and manages to blend them seamlessly into a very approachable and fun beer. Brett and Sorachi are both sticking-point flavours for some drinkers and this expertly tames the pair of them.

The last beer is one I found on draught in The Black Sheep: Cloud 3, a low-strength witbier. I hadn't sought it out and I honestly wasn't expecting much from it, especially given that comedy ABV of 2.8%. But it really gets your attention with its aroma: bright fresh tropical fruit and a touch of exotic perfume spice. The flavour is simple, though far from bland, all mandarin and mango. It's straight-down-the-line refreshing with no sideshows or unnecessary complexity. And that's not a euphemism for watery thinness: this is properly substantial, with enough fruity-candy consistency to carry the mouth-flooding hop juiciness. Irish microbreweries get a double tax-break at 2.8% ABV and not a single one takes advantage of it. If they were able to turn out something like this I, for one, would be a very happy customer.

Their labels can look a bit scary and pretentious, but this set of To Øl beers offers easy-drinking bouncy fun. Three glasses of hazy happiness.

17 May 2017

Advance party

The Hop City festival took place in Leeds at Easter. As part of the promotional run-up, host brewer Northern Monk brewed a collaboration beer with Cloudwater and hop supplier YCH called, imaginatively, Hop City IPA.

It's squarely in the New England style, 6.2% ABV, 20 IBUs and a soupy yellow colour. The aroma is bright and fresh, throwing out juicy mandarin and spicy green rocket. In keeping with the style the body is soft and the carbonation low, making for some smooth and easy-going quaffing.

While not bitter per se, there is a certain edge to the flavour, with the mild burn of raw garlic and a touch of pine resin. That works in parallel with gentle nectarine and mango, backed by a milkshake and candyfloss pillowy sweetness. It's all finely balanced, the contrasting flavours working in a delightful harmony.

This is a beer I could drink a lot of. Hopefully the festival lived up to it.

15 May 2017

Quirky Catalans

When I wrote about the Alltech Brews & Food Festival a few months ago, I mentioned that James from Alltech was kind enough to fill the gaps in my Barcelona Beer Company sampling with an armful of freebie bottles. Today, at long last, I'm getting them written about as well.

There's an endearing quirkiness in their artwork, enough to let me forgive the fact that the first one I opened doesn't have an ABV on the label. The brewery website tells me that Big Bear is 5% ABV. It's an amber-coloured pale ale which goes big on malt, all wholegrain bread and bourbon biscuit. There's enough of an old-world hop tang -- jaffa oranges and metal -- to give it the overall feel of an English bitter, and Young's Ordinary comes to mind in particular, though it's quite a while since I last tasted that. The extra weight from all that malt does mean it's not as quaffable as a typical bitter, but it's fine for slower drinking. Sometimes it's nice when a brewery which goes all-out with its yoof craft branding delivers a resolutely traditional-tasting beer. Psyche!

On to the IPAs next, and the first is Cerdos Voladores using prestige US hop varieties Amarillo and Centennial. The brewery says it's their "rowdiest" beer, though it seemed pretty lazy when I poured it, taking a bit of agitation to get a head on. It looks handsome, though, a deep orange with just a slight haze through it. There's no slacking in the aroma: it's fresh and punchy, all lime zest and juicy nectarine. It tastes quite sweet, but in the balanced sense, with the hops still to the fore. The acidic waxy citrus underlies everything and lasts the longest, but on top of that thumping rhythm is a melody of mandarin and mango. The low carbonation I complained about actually makes for really easy drinking and despite that palate-pounding bitterness and not-insubstantial 6% ABV, I could definitely see myself reaching for another of the same after finishing one.

High expectations, then, for what did come next: Miss Hops, Barcelona's "high IPA", though still the same ABV and only a slightly higher IBU level. It looks the same, and has a similar reticence about head formation, but is much less -- how shall I say? -- hoppy. The aroma is a gentle peach and honeydew with a warm undercurrent of alcohol beneath. The first flavour I got was quite savoury and dry, almost musty. There are bright notes of tangerine and a resinous dank, but it's all quite monotone and serious. After the blazing jollity of Cerdos Voladores I was really in the mood for something happier, something this very saturnine IPA didn't deliver.

Quite a rollercoaster there in just three beers but my overarching advice is plump for the pigs.

11 May 2017

The hazy, the crazy and the just plain weird

Belgian New England IPA: I never thought I'd see the day. But here we are. A couple were on show at the 2017 Zythos Beer Festival in Leuven. The first one I spotted was called Ceci NEIPA Une IPA and was from the Broers brewery. Like what I suspect is a majority of beers in this style, it's clear: a bright orange-gold colour. It offers very much a Belgian perspective since, alongside the heavy dankness and fresh mandarin, there's a spicy clove and fruit ester quality. NEIPA's signature Vermont yeast does tend to leave behind a smooth, almost greasy body, but in this it's pretty much indistinguishable from any other big-bodied strong Belgian ale. I enjoyed it, though. There's no arguing with those lovely hops.

That was one of my early beers of the day; the last one I drank before leaving was another New Englander: Me So Juicy by Préaris. This is a wan yellow colour and has a decent bit of haze going on. Though only 6% ABV it has quite a boozy aroma, with just a hint of fruity chew-sweet thrown in. The texture is unforgivably thin, watery even. It does have that style-appropriate spun-sugar quality in the flavour but it's useless without the body to match. The hops are generous but the bitterness is too high, giving it a jangling sharp grapefruit aftertaste. I guess this is the point where NEIPA meets Belgian blonde ale, and it's not a happy place.

Not for the first time, the best expression of New England IPA's qualities was to be found in a beer that wasn't badged as one of the style. This was at the Totem stand, Totem being a client brewer, brewing mostly at Bryggja in Moerkerke, near Bruges. It was the first bar where I saw a queue, punters drawn in by the off-kilter styles of both the beers and the bar staff. Shame about the Comic Sans on the ol' signboard, though.

So, Aðumla, then, is a "milkshake IPA" and combines a fresh and peachy hop flavour with a luxurious soft and creamy body. The hops are piquant rather than bitter and the whole thing is as refreshing as an actual milkshake while still being definitely beer. I wanted to try more of what Totem were offering, so back in the queue.

L: Qwertyuiop, R: Itzamna
Their session IPA was next, called (if I've got this spelling correct) Qwertyuiop and a tiddly 2.9% ABV. They've done a great job with the aroma, which is all bright and punchy citrus but that daring ABV was a step too far and has left the beer watery as a result. The hops are grand on the opening sip but it all tails off very quickly leaving just a plain grainy crunch by the end. So there's a reason people don't generally do IPAs at this strength.

Next to it is Itzamna, an oatmeal IPA. There can't possibly be any problem with the body here. Bizarrely, there is. Even at 5.8% ABV it's still thinner than it ought to be. But the hops are its saving grace, bringing some real bitter new-world action, with pine in the aroma, an intense bitter lime kick running right through the flavour and leaving a long and satisfying acid scorch on the palate long after swallowing. It's a long way from balanced but has decided that that's your problem. Deal with it.

I popped back later for just one more Totem beer, after the crowds had died down a little. Another session IPA, this time with added smoke, and called Ah Puh. The smoke almost completely covers up any IPA qualities and there's just a tiny trace of light lemon zest to be found in the background. The foreground is a massive honking kick of chlorophenols for the full 3D 4K surround-sound Laphroaig experience. And yet it manages to remain crisp and clean, which is down to the modest 4.5% ABV strength, I guess. You'd probably have to be a peat fan to enjoy it but I am and it uses it very well.

With all of that strange and interesting stuff from Totem, I figured I should drop around to Bryggja's own stand to see if they were being equally daring. Not really, but I tried their Triple-B IPA. It's not great. Perfume looms large in this one: spicy jasmine on the nose, which isn't a problem, but intensified in the flavour, simultaneously far too sweet and far too bitter, with a nasty melted plastic edge on it. Poor show.

Also in the mediocre one-offs file was Sterrenhemel, part of the Eulegoemse range from Hemelbrouwers. How many brand names does one beer need? I was drawn to their bar by their cool logo, and of course good branding indicates that it's a contract brew, produced at Pirlot in east Flanders. Sterrenhemel is a 7.5% ABV black IPA and does everything a black IPA normally does, except in disappointing miniature. There's a mild tarry roast and a wisp of green spinach acidity plus a pinch of spiced red cabbage. It feels like there should be more, that the big flavours are just about to kick in, but they never do. It's inoffensive stuff but at that strength should definitely taste of more.

Even in Belgium, gose is inevitable these days, and I was looking for the plain one produced by Brasserie du Brabant. It was sold out, however, so I had to make do with Rêve de Gose Pom, the version with added pomegranate. It's the unattractive beige colour of an abandoned mug of milky tea. There's the soft briney flavour of a balanced gose, livened with a small fruity acidic boost. I felt it ended up falling between two stools, having the classical quaffable qualities of straight gose but also the dullness they often show. The fruit interferes with the simplicity without adding anything bold or fun. As a fruity gose it's fine, but it's no Salty Kiss.

The same brewery produced the most daring beer I saw at the festival, the portentously named Plato's Cave. This is a double IPA which they've aged in cognac barrels. Cognac grande champagne barrels, they are at pains to point out, so they must have cost a bit. From the first sip there's a shocking kick of harsh incense and aftershave so my first impression was that this was a total disaster. But after a moment or two it settles down and becomes more softly spoken. There's a pleasant warming quality, and those incense fireworks fizzle out to a nostalgic and comforting Old Spice fug, much smoother than at the outset. I could see myself sipping this, and it was really only at the end of my sample that I realised that this double IPA has no hop character. Oh well.

Finally, it was great to get a taste of the beers from Siphon Brewing, the brewery recently established by Belgium-based Irish beer blogger Breandán Kearney, aka Belgian Smaak.

Stout to begin with, of course: Cassandra, a 7% ABV one which includes crushed oyster shells for a bonus salty tang. I can't say I noticed the oysters in the flavour as this is big and rich and thick, all sticky toffee pudding and chocolate brownie. There's a boozy coffee bit in the middle which turns it to tiramisu, plus a generous sprinking of hazelnut. This is the entire dessert trolley in one beer and is sumptuous.

As is Tronk, Siphon's vanilla and orange quadrupel. It smells a little bit unpleasantly hot -- a touch of the marker pen -- but calms down on tasting. It's still fairly boozy with a banoffi pie sweetness, some chocolate and a nice balancing oily orange vibe. You know you're getting full value out of the 10% ABV.

And to finish something in completely the opposite direction: Rule of Three, a golden rye ale of just 3.3% ABV. This was brewed to celebrate Belgian Smaak's third birthday and was a collaboration with Donegal's own Kinnegar. You can read more about its creation -- breaking the conventions of Belgian brewing -- in the latest issue of the Beoir magazine here. I found that it manages to be light and refreshing without being thin and has a flavour profile reminiscent of good central European pilsner: the same sort of honey and grass. Great as a palate-cleanser, especially after the other two Siphon bruisers.

It's fascinating to watch the Belgian speciality beer scene grow to become almost as diverse as the ones in less tradition-bound European countries. I hope the drinkers are having as much fun with it as the brewers seem to be.

10 May 2017

The Zythos file

There's usually a very good social programme around the serious business of the EBCU's biannual meetings. At the end of the Friday session of the Spring meeting in Brussels last month we were joined by Thomas Vandelanotte, brewer at the venerable Belgian producer and importer John Martin, for a talk and tasting of some of their beers. He covered the company's history, their more recent projects, and lots of fun technical stuff about lambic, via Martin's lambic label Timmermans.

We began with Récolte, from the brewery's Waterloo range. It's roughly a saison, 6% ABV and a very pale blonde colour. There's a sharp and dry quality to the flavour, rustic and grainy like rye bread. It's fine, but not very exciting.

The bag of Timmermans Oude Lambiek 2014 got the room's attention, however. I was amazed by the level of fruit flavour in this: it has a sweet botrytised-wine quality in the foretaste, finishing clean and sharp with a seam of gunpowder spice running throughout. I love the idea -- and unfortunately it's mostly just an idea these days -- of straight lambic as an everyday cheap session beer, served from the cask and knocked back quickly. This is one that would fill that role beautifully while also possessing a magnificent complexity. The bag didn't last long in a room full of international beer obsessives, unsurprisingly.

Martin's seems to be engaged in a big push for Bourgogne de Flandres as its flagship beer these days. They have a fancy new showpiece brewery in the middle of Bruges. As I'm sure you're aware, Bourgogne is a blend of Timmermans lambic with a strong brown ale. Thomas brought along some samples of the latter, named Bruinen Os ("Brown Ox"). This is 8.2% ABV and a very dark red colour. It has a serious amount of umami in the flavour, the earthy savoury taste of shiitake mushrooms. There's a more typically Belgian brown banana element behind that, as well as a big dose of dry roasted grain. It's all rather severe and difficult to drink; definitely a sipper, if even that. I can see why somebody decided to start cutting it with lambic.

The brewery also does some barrel ageing and Bruinen Os given time in a red wine barrel comes out rather better: smoother and, while still meaty, it has a lovely chocolate and toffee flavour as well.

The after-meeting arrangements on Saturday were nothing more elaborate than go to the Zythos Beer Festival which had just opened in Leuven. I was last at this four years ago but it hasn't changed much, though they have reduced the number of stands in the hall slightly. I had skimmed the list of exhibitors in advance and there wasn't much that struck me as must-trys, although there were a couple of Rodenbach brand extensions available here that I hadn't got round to yet, so my first stop was the Palm bar.

Rodenbach Alexander is made with added cherries. It's quite a confection: sugary sweet, like one of those mass-market krieks the less-reputable lambic houses produce. The base beer is still discernible, however, with its cornbread dryness and an acidic burn. From the stern gaze of Mr Alexander on the bottle label I was expecting something classy and serious rather than the frivolous fun that this is.

For classy and elegant, there's Rodenbach Vintage. This is a dark brown colour and has a seriously funky aroma as well as a heavy texture. The weight of it takes some of the sharper edges off the sourness but there's a definite malt-vinegar tart quality. At the centre of the flavour is a blend of fruit and savoury flavours: the tamarind and date you get in gloopy Indian dipping sauces, or even plain old HP. This is definitely a Rodenbach for sipping, though it doesn't lose sight of its essential Rodenbachness.

Like Martin's, Palm also has a small experimental brewery these days, pushing out small-batch specials very obviously designed to compete in the craft arena. There's a series called "Arthur's Legacy" and the first beer under the badge is a 7.1% ABV wheat beer with added juniper, called White Widow. Someone passed me a glass of it at one stage in the evening because they were horrified by it. I was horrified too. It tastes of burnt plastic. This experiment should never have passed the brewery gates.

Also from the big brewers' limited editions file, I gave Duvel-Moortgat's Lost In Spice a go. This is a clear golden ale brewed at De Koninck and seems to have been popular enough to be made permanent. I don't know what went into it but there's definitely ginger. It's very light, to the point of being thin, but I don't think that's really a sin in these lemonadey ginger beers. They're designed to be thirst-quenching and refreshing, and this definitely meets those criteria. It is just a little bit too sweet, though. While the ginger flavour is present, I'd like a bit more dryness from it. Overall, though, I could happily quaff lots of this if spending the summer in Antwerp.

I was expecting more sweet and spicy from Toetëlèr's Speculaas but this strong and thick dark brown beer doesn't really taste like the cinnamon cookies that inspired it. It's more herbal than spiced, reminding me first of cola and then of Fernet Stock: ansieed, cardmom and that sort of thing. I don't know how much of it I could handle in one sitting, but it's fun and surprisingly tasty.

The festival was very crowded when we arrived, though mercifully began to clear out steadily as the evening progressed. At one point it was so difficult to get around that I just grabbed the nearest beer I could find. It happened to be Scotch Silly from Belgian fixture Brasserie Silly. It's pretty damn good. too. Beautifully smooth with soft and luxurious toffee yet not too heavy or overly sweet. The texture is just chewy enough to be substantial and the whole thing is masterfully balanced. I really was not expecting to come out of the festival raving about this old-timer, but there you have it.

Nearby was 't Kroontje brewery and my colleague John decided to give their Rebelle Brett a go. On just a small taste I found it a bit too harsh. It starts well enough, with the lovely tropical peach and passionfruit flavour certain strains of Brettanomyces produce, but there's a piney hop bitterness that rises and eventually smothers any subtlety, resulting in a beer that tastes too close to floor cleaner for comfort.

Over the wires from Carlow came a recommendation by Liam to try the beer from De Leite, and their Cuvée Soeur'ise in particular. So off I went and procured what proved to be a kriek: pale pink in colour and tasting brightly of fresh cherry juice. Behind this is a sherbet spice and just enough sourness to balance the sweet fruit. It was all rather lovely and fun so I was straight back to their bar to see what else they had.

Femme Fatale was next, a hazy golden tripel of just 6.5% ABV. As befits the low strength it's not exactly bursting with flavours, but what's there is good, mixing up honey, beeswax, grain husk and sweet lychee. After that it was Fils À Papa, described intriguingly as a "dubbel kriek". It's a dark shade of pink with a similar cherry juice flavour to the Soeur'ise but seasoned with a strong element of oak as well. It gives an assertive acidic burn at the back of the throat but still manages to remain fun and drinkable with all the ease of an alcopop kriek plus a more serious complexity. Very nicely put together overall.

That's it for this first run through Zythos. More tomorrow, including a look at some of the more daring and outré offers.

09 May 2017

In Belgium looking out

I'm perceiving a change in the beer scene around Brussels lately. Previously, the selection on offer was almost exclusively Belgian. I don't recall foreign beer featuring at all until the Delirium Café opened its Hoppy Loft extension a few years ago, and it was always a novelty, very much outside the mainstream. Then I guess you had Moeder Lambic Fontainas, still resolutely local but with occasional guest beers from abroad. And then BrewDog arrived with an outlet pushing its own wares alongside the Belgians. It still didn't feel like Brussels had any real interest in imported beer until my last visit a couple of weeks ago. The most shocking feature was the Goose IPA taps, popping up like mushrooms in the most unexpected places. The backpackers' bar ViaVia is perhaps fair enough, but in the resolutely traditional and brown Fleur En Papier Doré? Something has shifted and in this case AB InBev are doing the pushing. (As an aside, one Belgian industry-watcher hypothesises that the Goose in Belgium is locally-brewed, not imported, though the brewery hasn't commented on that so I don't know if it's true.)

And then there was the blackboard at Brasserie 28. Unlike its near-neighbour BrewDog, this place has no compelling reason to offer imported beer, yet five of the 23 draft lines were dedicated to foreigners. Two of them were Irish: a pair from li'l ol' Eight Degrees, and of the remaining three Scandinavians I probably shouldn't be counting To Øl as their stuff is brewed in Belgium, but I'm going to anyway.

Santa Gose F&#% It All is, as the name suggests, a gose. It's a mere 4% ABV and quite refreshing with it, coming across as maybe just a little watery right at the tail end. I got a major hit of fruit salad from it, and picked out pineapple and white grape in particular. Turns out they've added passionfruit, guava and mango to the recipe, and I'm sure they all play their part. Just a light salt tang on the end lends it trueness to style. It's all rather jolly and enjoyable and doubtless works great in quantities larger than the small glass I had.

Omnipollo's Karluminium had me wondering if this was Belgian too but it appears to have been brewed at Buxton in England. It was a staggering €8 for a 25cl measure, but I don't see Omnipollo beers very often, so why not? It's a wheat beer packed full of sour cherries, 6% ABV and a deep purple colour with a pink head. I'm told that it's intended to be served as a slush. Maybe that helps, because as-is it wasn't very good. It's intensely sweet, reminding me a lot of fruit-of-the-forest yoghurt, right down to the thick texture and mild tartness. I'd rather a cherry beer tasted of cherries, not blackberries, and I prefer expensive beer to taste of more than one thing. Hmpf.

Down at Moeder Lambic they were having a celebration of Portuguese beers, with four breweries represented when I visited. My first was Postscriptum Black IPA, a 7.5% ABV number which turns the volume up on everything: a tarry aroma with a consistency to match; huge amounts of roast flavour; and then a bright and spicy grapefruit-meets-nutmeg hop taste. Big, bold and absolutely beautiful.

A couple from Lisbon's Dois Corvos next. Finisterra is described as an imperial porter and is only a small bit stronger than the preceding beer but feels double the strength, with a cloying treacly texture and a sweet perfumed flavour. It's another loud one, but not in the right sort of way, I thought.

L: Voragem, R: Into The Woods
Also 8% ABV is Into The Woods scotch ale. This is a dark and hazy chestnut red and tasted to me more like a dubbel than anything else. It has that heavy toffee character but with a big contribution from the yeast: a gunpowder spice as well as a more prosaic savoury bite. It's not bad, though I think it could do with some cleaning up. Just because a beer is strong and heavy doesn't mean its flavour attributes can't be clear and distinct.

Another black IPA next: Voragem by Mean Sardine. No tar in the aroma this time, just bright and fresh citrus. It's quite dry and crisp to the taste, with lots of deep and dank hop resins and maybe just a touch of roasty darkness. The finish is pretty quick, which is not in its favour: I'd prefer if those oily hops hung around on the palate a little while longer. I'm conflicted as to whether this is ultimately a bit boring and one-dimensional, or the perfect quaffer: the hoppy dark lageralike that the world has been waiting for. You'll have to decide for yourself.

Last of this lot is Letra C stout, by Letra Brewery in Vila Verde in the far north of Portugal. Not a big bruiser for a change, at only 5.5% ABV. They've done a good job of picking out the elements that make for good mid-strength stout: a lightness of texture for refreshment and a subtle dry roast. The finish presents a sweeter rosewater complexity that really enhances it. It's a quietly spoken beer, but brimming with understated elegance.

The last port of crawl before leaving for the airport was the aforementioned Delirium Hoppy Loft. It had just opened for the day and the large windowless space with its wagon-wheel tables was quiet. My first beer was an Italian version of a Kölsch which the barman told me was a weissbier. Hibu's Köln resembles neither, really. It has a spicy aroma which reminded me of tripel, though that could be down to where I happened to be at the time. The flavour opens on a harsh perfume sting, and then turns sweaty and dry, with an unpleasant corn husk taste that's a zombified version of classic Kölsch crispness. Trying to fit it to a style category is a Titanic deckchairs situation. It's just a terrible beer.

That needed a decent IPA to follow and I took a punt on Caps Lock from Warpigs in Copenhagen. Though a mere 6.6% ABV it's a very heavy and chewy beast with bags of soft toffee. It uses this smooth malt base to spread out a mass of hop resins. These give it a bit of a metallic aspirin tang but no real bitterness so the overall effect is more like a barley wine than IPA. It even feels warming and could easily pass for 8% ABV and up. Not what I was expecting but I rather enjoyed it.

My companion John picked Black Is Black I Want My Baby Back by Finnish gypsy brewer Flying Dutchman. I don't know what the hop combination in this black IPA is, but it makes it smell of stale piss. It's very off-putting and nobody wants to approach their freshly acquired beer with thoughts of neglected toilets. Mercifully the flavour is rather... well... cleaner, leaning more on the dark roasted grain element though there is still a bit of leftover dried wee in there somewhere. It's kind of like durian fruit in beer form: enjoying it is a question of knowing how to handle it.

So that's a taste of the imported beer offer in Brussels these days. Much as I love the city's classic pubs and classic beers, I do like having the option of indulging my interest in geek-focussed international craft beer. I'd hazard that some of the locals do too. The next post is pure Belgium, however, as we make our way to the country's biggest beer festival.


08 May 2017

Low country, high mileage

As usual, I'm a trip to Belgium behind on this blog. What I got up to at the weekend will feature later, but the next few posts are about a few days in Brussels and Leuven I spent a fortnight ago. The occasion was the biannual meeting of the European Beer Consumers Union, which is of course serious business and all of you who drink beer in Europe should be grateful for our selfless service. But there tends to be a bit of beering done on the periphery as well. Today's post brings us around a few pubs; some familiar, some not.

Top of the "not" list was Brasserie 28. This is a venture by the Caulier beer brand, tucked into an airy space behind the war memorial on the main concourse of Brussels Centraal station. With lots of legroom and big plate-glass windows looking out onto the old town it's an ideal place for your first beer on Belgian soil. For that it has a remarkably good international selection on its couple of dozen taps, which I'll get to tomorrow, but there's plenty of local interest too, including Caulier's own range, of course.

To begin, then, Caulier IPA, 6% ABV and a bright and clear gold colour. So far so normal, but it takes a bizarre left-turn on tasting, into the bitter spiced realms of Campari and cedarwood. The aroma is a herbal-chemical bathsalts thing while the thick texture just makes all of this louder. Clean it ain't. I honestly don't know how this was achieved -- perhaps with a yeast that isn't normally used for IPAs -- but I do know that it's just too downright weird to be enjoyable.

So obviously I picked another Caulier IPA for the next round. White Oak is slightly lighter at 5.5% ABV but feels a lot lighter; downright thin, in fact. It's the pale yellow of a witbier and has a similar sort of lemony aroma, one that could even pass as a radler. The flavour is a lot less exciting than the other IPA, though woody spices are very apparent again. Beyond this are some greasy banana and coconut esters. It's fairly dull overall, not living up to its billings of oak or IPA.

The dark orange beer next to it that looks like an IPA is Caulier Tripel, a 9% ABV monster that piles on the alcohol, tasting hot and heavy with a sharp and uncompromising bitterness. There's a little bit of spice and fruit buried deep, but really not enough to provide any sort of balance. This isn't going so well, is it?

Caulier Saison was better, if not exactly a classic of the style. There's a confection of sweet honey and meadowy flowers in the flavour with a mild lemon bitterness. It does lack crispness and occasionally veers worryingly towards soap, but is mostly clean and refreshing, if not particularly exciting. It was still a relief after the last lot, though. Time to cut my losses and move on.

The evening took me and my colleague John down to the Sainte-Catherine district next, to ViaVia, a concrete bunker of a place, recently transformed into a travel theme bar. They had a new one from Brussels Beer Project, the appropriately-backpackish Patagonian Dream. This is a 4.2% ABV witbier which uses Argentinian hop varieties Mapuche and Traful, as well as a generous dose of blueberries. It's a milky pink-orange colour and smells vaguely of lime and fried onions, reminding me a lot of beers which use the native American hop Neomexicanus. Maybe there's a Latin connection here. The intrigue ends there, however. The texture is thin and watery and the flavour dull, with just dry wheat, a vague non-specific fruit edge and a nasty plastic finish. Perhaps witbier wasn't the best vehicle for this experiment, and maybe more than 42g/L of blueberries are necessary.

Our final stop was around the corner at RITCS, the canteenish bar of Brussels's art school, mostly abandoned this Thursday night, presumably because of the Easter vacation. The recommendation was Bersalis Sourblend, produced by lambic house Oud Beersel and composed of its Bersalis Tripel cut with 30% lambic, resulting in a final ABV of 6%. The aroma is a pleasant fruity spice and it tastes strangely meaty: the big iron tang found in black pudding or pâté. There's just a very slight tartness, enough to ensure the yeast spices don't get in the way of its fundamental cleanness. It's still very odd and I'm not at all sure I liked it. More than anything, I kept thinking I'd rather just have the lambic, thanks.

To finish evening one, a couple of local pale ales. Noisy by new Brussels brewery No Science is one of those savoury ones, banging out raw onion and caraway akvavit flavours. The aroma is more of a traditional orange candy thing, so there's always that to fall back on. Interestingly, there was lots of yeasty goop in the bottom of the 33cl bottle but not a trace of it in the flavour, which was nice.

The alternative was Green Machine, by Verzet. There's a bit of yeast in this all right, and a heavy texture. I got herbal aniseed in a big way from the flavour, allying with the residual sugar to create a kind of humbug effect. I think I preferred the onions.

Beer of the moment around Brussels, or at least the one being pimped for all it's worth by its owners, was Cornet, a blonde ale by industrial brewer Palm. The glass, in fairness, is lovely, and is mostly what prompted me to order one at Café Monk the following day. It has a summery floral aroma with a touch of honey sweetness but is another one of those beers that loses its integrity, and the drinker's attention, once tasted. The floral thing hangs on, but becomes little more than a waft of fabric softener. The brewery also claims that it has been oaked in some way, but there's no sign of that. It's almost like they dialled down the main flavour to leave room for the oak, then forgot to add it. Anyway, buy two and you get to keep the glass, which is the only reason I can see to buy any.

That was my lunch beer; dinner was a return to the wonderful Nuetnigenough where I took a chance on Alvinne's Mad Tom session IPA. As seems to be par for the course with Alvinne, their yeast is a hyperactive overachiever, thinning out this 4%-er to the point of removing the flavour, and adding in a palate-bashing high carbonation. This does help push out the lovely fresh jaffa aroma, and there's enough of that left in the aftertaste as the beer's saving grace, but it's a bit of a workout to drink otherwise. I certainly couldn't imagine a session on burpwater like this.

With the main course we ordered a sharing bottle of La Vermontoise, a saison brewed by Blaugies as a collaboration with Hill Farmstead. As one might expect, it's an absolute triumph, smelling sweetly of apple and peach compote followed by a sauvignon-like soft melon flavour. Though quite dry there's a wonderful roundness to the body, an oaty, porridgey weight that gives the elements a wide stage on which to sing their part in the harmony. There's still just enough farmhouse roughness to prevent it seeming too polished and poncy, though that may be a deliberate front on what's doubtless a precision-engineered recipe.

When we moved to Moeder Lambic for after-dinner beers, we returned to Blaugies in the hope of something just as good. Darbyste, another saison, isn't quite up there, but it's close. I thought it was going to be a disaster at first: it smells horribly skunked, like green-bottle lager left on a windowsill. That's how I was expecting it to taste too, but instead it's clean and sharp, like a baby geuze. There's a slightly chalky mineral edge and a smooth texture for ease of drinking. It's deliciously refreshing too. If pale Rodenbach were a thing, I'm guessing it would taste like this.

Day three brought us to Leuven, but not before stopping at Toone on the way to the station to say hello to the new cat and I caught up with a beer I forgot I'd never tasted. Maredsous 8 is the dark bruin in Duvel Moortgat's abbey range and is a perfect warmer for a cold afternoon. 8% ABV and a beautiful chestnut red colour it has a wholesome chewy texture and flavours of liquorice, toffee and good old belly-warming booze. It's a beer you could cut into slices and eat. I'm sorry I overlooked it so long.

The main business to take care of in Leuven was the Zythos beer festival but I'll come to that in a later post. Post-show come-down beers were had in hopping downtown Leuven, awash with stag-and-hen revellers. A few wandered in to see us at De Metafoor but few stayed. I drank Goudenband and Hommelbier.

We had a nightcap at the fabulous brown-café-cum-jazz-bar De Blauwe Kater. For me, Luvanium, sold on the localness though obviously brewed miles and miles from Leuven, this being Belgium after all. At 7.2% ABV this blonde ale is in an unusual spot between the Leffes and the Duvels. It tastes nothing like either, however, going for bright and distinct liquorice flavours against a clean base with lots of prickly fizz. A little one-dimensional, perhaps, but decently refreshing.

John went for Tumulus Nera, ending the night on a dark note. This is 8% ABV and does a very competent stout impression: roasty on the nose with a creamy texture and a touch of coffee. It's balanced and pleasant, but again not exactly a flavour-bomb.

Before heading home on Sunday we were back in Brussels and dropped by Poechenellekelder where I did some more completist ticking, opting for a Gordon Finest Scotch Ale: one of those ancient Belgian beers you can't help wondering if anyone still drinks. That glass looks lovely but its a bugger to hold. Anyway, the beer isn't great, with a metallic saccharine tang and a disconcerting wisp of smoke, but not much else. Sinfully plain for mahogany brown and 8% ABV.

So that's your basic four-day, two-city, pub-based Belgian round-up. Tomorrow's post will look at the non-Belgians I discovered along the way.