Bear with me

It was a pleasant surprise to find a couple of beers from Bear Republic joining the line-up at Marks & Spencer. Time was, this was one of the go-to Californian breweries for seekers after those west-coast hop thrills, but I hadn't heard their name mentioned in years. Still, I was well up for a nostalgia trip. The last time I drank Racer 5 IPA was in 2009. It was a little less impressive nine years later, though still with those tasty peach notes on an orange-and-spices base. I guess there are a lot more beers like it around these days.

The new one is a pale ale caled Grand-Am, though still with a substantial ABV of 6%. It's a similar bright red-gold colour with a layer of fine white bubbles. The flavour and aroma are both rather muted, suggesting it may have been a mistake to drink that Racer 5 beforehand. Digging deep, a very similar flavour profile is there, just kind of... further away. A weighty boiled-sweet foundation, on which is set zesty grapefruit and spicy rocket and red cabbage. It's solidly built, if a little lacking in the refreshment qualities I'd like from a pale ale. I'm not complaining, but if you're only picking one of these, go for the turbo-charged Racer 5.

On the turn

The first Irish beer round-up of 2019 is here. I'm clearing up the tail end of last year's new (and new-to-me) releases, and taking a look at the early crop from the past few weeks.

The Swan on Dublin's Aungier Street has a new house beer called Swan Ale. The tap badge says it's from the "St Stephen's Green Brewery" but they've been very coy about where it's actually brewed. Turns out it's a very straightforward red ale, sweet even by the standards of the style with lashings of sticky toffee and caramel. There's no bitterness to speak of, and the carbonation is low, which made it a bit of a chore to chomp through, though a layer of dry tannin prevents it from turning actively difficult. At least it can't be accused of being watery or bland. More from the brand can be found in trad Dublin boozers The Bankers and The Ferryman. I'm sure the information will all come out in the wash eventually.

At the other end of the geek scale, another Vermont-yeast double IPA from Whiplash: Setting Sun. It's pale even by the style's standards, a uniform yellow emulsion. I got quite a lot of alcohol burn from the first sip, which was a little surprising. It takes a while for any hop action to emerge past this. There's savoury yeast first, then some garlic or scallion, and only quite late an emerging, but short-lived, lime bitterness. What little hop character there is fades even further on tasting, allowing more vanilla and cream out. There's no escaping the booze, though. This isn't one of Whiplash's best efforts, the hops just failing to land properly, whether that's because of the strength or the murk or something else entirely.

Having got their seasonal scotch ale and imperial stout releases out of the way early in December, Galway Bay's actual Christmas beer for Christmas week was a helles called, perhaps appropriately, Crispmas Hell. It's 5% ABV and almost completely clear with just a very slight kellerish haze in there. 100% spunded says the blurb, for extra crispness, and while I can't speak to the science it is exceedingly crisp indeed, a cleansing tingling sparkle. This does come at the expense of more typical helles softness but it's no hardship. Malt fans have to wait until it warms a little for a marzipan sweetness to emerge. The noble hops bring a mild sweet-pepper spice and a bitterer bite of fresh-cut grass, lasting long into the aftertaste. The latter element builds as it goes, to the point where my palate's aversion to German hops was kicking in by the end. Between that and the fizz I can't see myself horsing through masses of it (pun intended), but the first pint was bang on.

Just before Christmas, Hope dropped me a couple of bottles of their new nitrogenated Espresso Stout, number 13 in their limited edition series. I didn't have to pour it too violently to get a steady off-white head. The lack of sparkle isn't a problem as it's thick enough to not need it. That's well done with just 7% ABV to play with. Coffee isn't immediately apparent: I got chocolate first, albeit the dark and crumbly kind, then a sweet rose-and-honeysuckle perfumed sweetness. That balances well, and there's a proper green hop kick on the end. The only off-note was a weird oxidised sherry buzz, and I wonder if that was the coffee's fault. If so it's the only effect it had. Overall a very pleasant and drinkable winter stout.

White Gypsy's Woodcock pale ale has been showing up on guest and festival taps sporadically for the last couple of years. I think it's new to bottles, though, which is how I caught up with it. It's an American pale ale of 5.8% ABV, brewed with Citra and Mosaic. White Gypsy isn't exactly known for its hop-forward beers so I was intrigued to find out how this would go. The aroma wasn't a good start: astringent and somewhat sour, like the hops had been squeezed for every last microgramme of lupulin. It's similarly strange to taste, almost lactic in its sourness, but with notes of lime sorbet and vanilla ice cream too. Imagine a Loop the Loop ice lolly in beer form: it's something close to that. I found it hard to like. There are no soft edges; none of the gentle juiciness that Mosaic in particular does well. Instead it's hard edged, hot-tasting and severe. I wouldn't go so far as to say unpleasant, but it's a tough one to have fun with.

Black Donkey's winter release was a barrel-aged saison, quite possibly the first I've ever encountered, called Sergeant Jimmy. It's the clear pale amber of a glass of whiskey, though mostly smells of stonefruit, like the softer sort of saison. There's a definite something-else in the flavour, something distinctly oak-related, but I'd be more inclined to associate it with red wine or fino sherry than whiskey. It's certainly a mature flavour, and it contrasts nicely with the spritzy fresh saison. Pleasingly, the beer stays crisp and clean despite this, and despite the whopping 8% ABV. This is a mellow and gentle affair, not popping with novelty, but making good use of its constituent parts.

Onwards into the new year and O Brother has stolen a march on everyone with three brand new beers so far, all of which I located at UnderDog. Cloak and Stagger is described as a double dry-hopped New Zealand pale ale, just 5.5% ABV and a very hazy yellow. The Kiwi hops give it a certain grassiness over the tropical fruit these normally show, but there's also a sizeable dose of dreggy yeast, and a raw bitter hop burn on the finish, with a rub of garlic. It's not unpleasant, but does nothing particularly different with the hazy pale ale style. If you usually like them, you'll like this.

Presumably the brewery cat named I Killed This For You, a double IPA. It's another hazy orange job, this time thick and oily, tasting and feeling every bit of its 8% ABV. I don't know the exact hop line-up but it's lightly citric, more satsumas than limes. You get a decent wave of juiciness in there, while the finish is cleanly bitter. Again, it's a beer I feel I've tasted before; good at what it does but not doing anything distinctive or special. Could it be, with this pair, that there are just too many hazy hoppy beers out there? I'm sure I'd have been enamoured of both at one time. Now they seem quite run-of-the-mill.

They took a more daring step, fashion-wise, with Liberty, a plain old 4.3% ABV pilsner. Except there's nothing plain about it. Despite the watery appearance it has a filled-out bready malt base to which is added a mix of complex Germanic flavours. Eschewing grass notes, there's instead a rich green tang of crunchy sauerkraut, seasoned with a generous sprinkling of white pepper. While nothing fancy, it's rare for an Irish brewery to include a well-constructed pils as part of its one-off rotations. I'd be very happy to see more of this and its ilk.

Beer one from YellowBelly, released before I wrote it would be along soon, is Endangered Bap, a quirky collaboration with Whiplash. "Amarillo saison" is the description we're given to work with. It's a murky yellow colour and the texture also matches that of a New England IPA: that squidgy softness. From the flavour I got a strong one-two of juicy peach and sweet vanilla, while the saison side of the equation brings a sharp gritty burr. It's quite tasty, even if the Belgian roots are very difficult recognise under all those hops.

Keeping it topical were Two Sides and their Article 50 Brexit Stout, a sequel to summer 2016's Big Mistake IPA. At 6.5% ABV this will take the edge off current events. It's quite easy drinking too: a smooth and chocolatey affair, surprisingly light of body given all the dark malt character. That sits next to a bright floral perfume: rosewater and a little spike of jasmine spice. The fade-out is milk chocolate with some slightly gooey caramel. The floral thing seems like it might make it difficult to drink serially but it works well as a dessert or a nightcap.

The Porterhouse also has a big new stout, this one at 6.3% ABV and another which incorporates coffee into the recipe. I got to try Up & At 'Em on a visit to the brewery a few weeks ago, and it's also in their pubs and available bottled. It's quite dry and crisp, with a balanced roast from the dark malt and a subtle but distinct real coffee flavour. There's nothing extreme going on; instead the coffee is used as a true flavour enhancement rather than a simple gimmick.

We will retreat, strictly temporarily, into dry January with an alcohol-free West Coast IPA from Open Gate. As part of the promo for the Guinness no-alcohol lager, Pure Brew, the company staged a pop-up on South Anne Street the weekend before last. As well as the alcohol-free stout I reviewed last year, there was this 0.5% ABV hop bomb. It might not give you a massive head but it certainly had one, the staff blaming the densely nucleated glasses they were using. It tastes extreme: like raw hop powder or pellets, Cascade and Centennial being the varieties used. This gives it a concentrated citrus flavour and a heavy dankness too. And yet it's not all that bitter, possibly at least in part down to the huge and quite sticky body. Its hop credentials are beyond doubt, but compared to to the real thing, there was just something lacking: the complexity that full fermentation brings to a beer, regardless of how neutral the yeast is. Nevertheless it was pleasant drinking, convincing as a beer, and a genuine alternative for the hop-head on the dry. If Pure Brew lager goes well, the stout and IPA are worth investigating as successors.

And a final addition to the round-up comes in the form of Dark Side, a new nitro stout from Larkin's. I'm guessing this is intended as a core beer, for the customers seeking an alternative to the big brands. It didn't feel quite right to be drinking a pint of it among the fancy craft beers at UnderDog. It's a rock-solid stout: 4.7% ABV with a gentle kiss of sweet milk chocolate but not much else. I would love to try it away from the nitro as I suspect there's some extra complexity buried under there. It should be a cause for celebration in itself that an Irish start-up brewery is ready to go toe-to-toe with the big guys. Any move to disassociate the stout style with one particular brand is welcome.

That's it for now. Fingers crossed for lots of great new Irish beers this weekend at the Franciscan Well Cask Ales & Strange Brews festival. Doesn't it come around fast?

The Out-of-Towners

Post three from Hamburg concerns all the beers not from Hamburg. There's plenty of it about, in various contexts.

The Buddelship bar has lots of guest tap space. Mashee is a Hannover brewery I hadn't heard of and they had a Broyhan on offer. This previously extinct north-German style is an antecedent of modern weissbier and this example really shares a lot in common with the contemporary style. It's cloudy orange in colour, though headless, with a chewy body and lots of banana flavour. I get a small complexity of chocolate and salt, but otherwise it's just a dense, heavy weissbier. I think I expected something more daring. Oh well.

Berlin icon Heidenpieters, a brewery I'd heard lots about but never tried, was well represented on the taps. Their (Choco) Stout is 8.8% ABV and has an interesting herb-forward Jägermeister aroma. The texture is smooth, and that matches the silky chocolate flavour. It's not sweet, however, the flavour bringing in all those herbs again with plenty of dark bitterness. The name suggests it might be a pastrified sugarbomb but it's not.

On a later visit I got to try Heidenpeters Quince Saison. This is 4.8% ABV and a dark gold colour. There's an interesting wine-like aroma, of the sweet and white sort. The flavour, conversely, powers up the hops, turning dank and resinous. The grape juice returns soon after, and then there's another flip on the end where it's dry and raspingly bitter. I like the amazing mix of contrasts here; the twists and turns it takes. It's unusual without being silly, something all too rare in this era of try-hard beers.

Modern German craft isn't the only non-Hamburger beer in Hamburg: there are loads of trad blow-ins. Hofbräu, for example, has a couple of large beerhalls in the city. In the mood for Bavarian jollity, we went to one of them.

Surprisingly, I don't have a review of Hofbräu Dunkel on here, even though I've definitely drank it in the era of the blog. Anyway, it's chestnut red in colour and absolutely lovely. You get an aniseed aroma and then a clean-tasting lager with notes of caramel, roasted grain and mixed bitter herbs. The texture is heavy and bock-like yet it makes for very easy drinking. Well, relatively, easy drinking. A halbe was enjoyable; a full litre would be harder work.

Also of interest on the menu was Hofbräu Kristall Weisse, not a style I'd associate with the brewery, despite it being Bavarian as. This is fully clear; a polished gold. There's a very full-on clove aroma and lots of clove on the flavour too. Lots. I had it in my head that kristall meant a certain amount of flavour has been stripped out by the filtration process, but this manages to retain all the fun of a proper weissbier yet is easier drinking because it lacks the hot gritty bits of a raw weizen. Suddenly I see the point.

I further indulged my new-found interest in mainstream Munich kristallweisse later with a Franziskaner Kristallklar. This was much more what I had been expecting, even though I rather like standard Franziskaner. It tastes like it has been shorn of its wholesome wheaty goodness, and what's left is a sticky, solvent-infused residue. There's all the headachey taste of a weissbier but none of the gentle pillowy fruits or grains. The kristall experiment ended here.

I hoped for better with this new acquaintance from the same stable: Franziskaner Kellerbier. It's explicitly unfiltered and "direkt aus dem Lagerkeller", so is it cool-fermented, then? Unusual for this weissbier brand, if so. My pour in an admittedly narrow glass looked relatively clear and a rich copper-amber colour. After the first sip I could still taste the hot Kristallweisse that preceded it. I needed to drain the glass and start again. Topped up, things weren't much better. It's very dull, with just a vague cereal crunch and a slight metallic hop twang of the sort you find in cheap mass-produced lagers. Which, on reflection, is probably what this is. Zero out of two for AB InBev's Munich operation today.

Last of the weissbiers for now is Herrnbräu, the one they serve in the finely appointed restaurant in the cellar of Hamburg town hall. This cloudy orange number tastes of butane and light clove. It's light-bodied, making for easy drinking, but not thin or watery with a full 5.4% ABV. It gets sweeter as it warms, introducing elements of banana and toffee. Overall it's a fairly middle-of-the-road version of the style, maybe leaning a little to the sweet side, but not by much.

The final Bavarian beer for today is Bayreuther Hell, from Bayreuth, obviously. Textbook to the point of boring, this one: sweet and bready at first, followed by a kick of spicy red cabbage. It's pretty much everything helles is supposed to be and does nothing fancy within the parameters. I liked it, of course, but it's not the sort of beer that gives itself to long screeds of sensory description. Not that there's any reason it should.

East of Bayreuth, hard by the Czech border, is Waldsassen, home of the Stiftland brewery. Altes Mädchen was pouring a beer chalked up simply as Zoigl and it turned out to have come from this place. It arrived an attractive clear gold colour, tasting of soft mineral water with gentle herbs and meadowy flowers. These build as it warms, turning to prominent lavender and violet. This is set on a crisp base of Ryvita crackers: a grain crunch complementing the bready malt base. The different elements blend together well resulting in an understated sort of excellence. I know Zoigl isn't one of those styles that's meant to be shoved into kegs and shipped up the country, but I'd make an exception when they're like this.

Saxon beer Hasseröder, an AB InBev brand, was the last beer of the trip, served at the departure gate in the airport in a handsome heavy handled halbe. It's perfectly clear with a decent head, smooth and fluffy with cakey malt and then celery and basil wafting through. I had noted it down as another well-rounded helles before I discovered the brewery calls it a pilsner. Oh well, never mind. Good lager is good lager. For relaxing airport drinking it's absolutely perfect.

Before that, on our final afternoon, we called in to Beyond Beer, a brightly-lit off licence specialising in local and international beers of the craft sort, with a selection touching on Belgium, the UK, the US and other luminaries of the current scene. There are stools and benches for drinking in, with three taps and a €1 mark-up on anything from the fridge you want to stay and pour.

I picked Vinous by Beavertown, purely on the name. I like the nascent trend for winelike beers, and this sounded interesting: a 4.3% ABV sour beer using grape must in the recipe. It poured a clear and pale red colour with no head really. The flavour was disappointingly sweet and, well, obvious: cherry and eucalyptus shout loudly at the front. Red grape juice arrives later with just a small spike of sourness, while the texture is disappointingly thin. It's OK, all things considered, but what bugged me most is that it's in no way vinous. That's not a word you can just throw around.

I had almost chosen Hollows from New York's LIC Beer Project instead, and on leaving I decided I just had to have it. It's a top-rated top-dollar double IPA of the sort many breweries, including several Irish ones, are trying to copy at the moment. I wanted to find out if the style leaders were doing anything different, a lesson that cost me €10 for 440ml. And while this was definitely a nice beer -- 8.5% ABV with juicy notes of mango and pineapple, not killed by the yeasty off-flavours trying and failing to smother them -- it demonstrated to me that Irish breweries like Whiplash are working at exactly this level. Chasing exotic rarities is fun, but there's no point in doing it when it comes to hazy double IPAs: they're not difficult for any competent brewer to turn out.

I hadn't been expecting to finish my musing on beer in Hamburg with a graffitto'd can of NYC hop juice, but here we are. I think I've shown that the city has plenty to offer the beer-curious, and I'm certain there's much more to see at a time of year when a greater number of the bars and taprooms are actually open. Go then.

Tradition vs. novelty

My second post from Hamburg (first one's here) covers a broad range of the Hanseatic city's beers: industrial to nano; traditional to eclectic.

We'll start with Astra, the brand which tries hardest to make Hamburg its own. The label belongs to local giant Holsten, itself a subsidiary of Carlsberg, and I'm not even sure if it's still brewed in the city: there were certainly plans afoot recently to close down the plant there. When out shopping I had meant to get reacquainted with their core pils but only when I took the bottle out of the hotel fridge a couple of days later did I realise it was actually a concoction called Astra Rakete, a mix of beer and citrus vodka (shudder). How bad could it be? It's actually OK. There's a slightly medicinal Lemsip feel, some spicy wintery cinnamon and clove, and still a crisp lager at its core. A full 5.9% ABV, this is no radler, and it's actually a little too sticky to drink in quantity, but one was fine; a lot better than I deserved for my inattentiveness.

On the very southern edge of the city limits sits Kehrwieder Kreativbrauerei. Their flagship is called Prototyp and is 5.9% ABV but doesn't have a declared style on the label. Let's see what we've got here. The hazy yellow colour suggested it might be some sort of lager, maybe a kellerbier, but the aroma of west coast US hops immediately brought us back to pale ale territory. The flavour starts with this zinginess but fades out very quickly, finishing on a grain crunch, like an aforementioned kellerbier. At this point I went and looked at the brewer's website. Turns out it is a lager after all, heavily dry-hopped and using Simcoe along with Saaz, Perle and Northern Brewer. I fully support their decision to swerve the daft designation "India Pale Lager", but that's what it is. I enjoyed the duality effect, the way it arrives as an American IPA but finishes as a German pils; it's fun. The two aspects don't really blend together but I'm OK with enjoying them separately. My bottle of this on the last night made me wish I'd found more of theirs.

To the breweries next. Blockbräu occupies a majestic old stone building on the harbour front in St. Pauli. Inside it's a grand restaurant and beerhall on two levels, commanding great views of the busy waterway outside. The brewkit sits on a balcony overlooking the diners below, and so did I.

The main stock in trade is Blockbräu Pils. Even for a standard German brewpub lager it's pale: a slightly sad yellow, verging on green. Noble hops, of course, bringing a meadow flower aroma and a flavour mixing spinach and fresh-mown grass before finishing on a dry mineral bite. While it's as lightly textured as it looks, it somehow manages a creaminess as well. The generous 5.2% ABV no doubt helps with that. I was expecting bland but was pleasantly surprised to find this one had plenty of character.

There's a continuous cycle of seasonals at Blockbräu but winter doesn't seem to begin until late January so we got Herbst Pale Ale left over from autumn instead. This is 4.8% ABV and a murky orange colour. Again, expectations were low, and again the reality confounded them. It opens with a sweet citrus flavour, the lemon and grapefruit of hard candy. This is followed by an odd yet tasty spice mix of ginger and nutmeg. On the downside the texture is a little thin, and a bitter edge might have improved it. I still enjoyed the idiosyncrasy of it all, however.

The other brewing beer hall I visited was Gröninger, sited in a long cellar in a grand Altstadt building. I arrived towards the end of what looked to have been a busy evening so maybe the service isn't always as surly as I got, but surly it was. Asking about seasonals was right out of the question and I stuck to the core.

Gröninger Pils arrived a surprisingly deep shade of amber, obviously unfiltered and very rough with it. It tasted extremely dry and acrid, of water biscuits and dry rot. Wholesome, perhaps, but not a drop of cheer in the whole glass.

I followed that with a Hanseaten Weisse, another dark orange one. It's very fizzy, even by weissbier standards -- palate scrubbing from the get-go; crisp, but too crisp, and lacking any wheaty smoothness. The flavour is an extreme mix of hot butane and green banana, so certainly not in danger of blandness. It was all just a bit too much hard work for me. I've encountered this sort of northern weizen before -- Flensburger's, for instance -- but none as extreme. This is a style that should be in some part soft and relaxing, and there was no chance of that here.

Just to complete the set (skipping the radler) there's the delightfully named Hamburger Helles. Oddly, this came in a 33cl bottle, and bore no family resemblance to the other two so I suspect they have it brewed elsewhere. The drinker wins in that arrangement as it's beautiful: rich lemon drizzle cake in the foretaste, finishing on al dente asparagus and set on a luxurious eiderdown pillow of a texture. We're a long way from the wintery North Sea here, skipping gaily through the sunny Bavarian countryside. I needed that, after the previous pair.

Another helles in a different environment, next. ÜberQuell is a brewpub and pizzeria in the old St. Pauli fishmarket area. It's very much in the style of a modern craft beer bar, the arty squat look of bare concrete, stripped wood and spindly steel. The brewing vessels perch on a raised platform at the far end of the long thin building, poised like a band ready to perform.

Original Helles is an outlier on the generically craft menu. The visuals aren't great: no head and a little too much haze. The flavour is spot on, however. There's a champagne-like toast plus a generous pinch of mixed green herbs. The all-important texture is smooth and full without turning heavy. I forgive the looks 100%.

A pale ale next, called Palim Palim. 5.3% ABV and a slightly hazy amber colour. The flavour is a bittersweet mix of peach skin and floral perfume, leading on towards an aspirin bitterness and spiced up with exotic sandalwood. The finish is rather abrupt and the texture a little on the thin side. It's mildly interesting but far from amazing.

Special beer of the moment, to the left of the photo, is QuasiMono, an IPA of 7%. It's hazier than the pale ale and has a pure tropical aroma of mango and pineapple. That gets spoiled from the first taste by a weird plasticky burr which I can't explain. It could be a deliberate attempt at introducing a flavour I don't like, or an infection; either way: bleurgh. I could still detect some pineapple juice in the background but nowhere near enough to save the overall mess.

I picked up one ÜberQuell bottle in a supermarket earlier. Supadupa IPA is 6% ABV and a mid-amber colour. It smells sweet and sickly but the flavour is more polished: a clean mix of lime pith, grapefruit zest and richer malt sweetness. The texture is nicely smooth and the whole Lilty mix just slips back with minimal effort. You don't get many IPAs of this sort, eschewing fashion but in no way harsh. There's no bitter punch, but neither is it a hazy fruitbomb. Big but balanced, and very easy drinking. It's just as well this is the core one, not QuasiMono.

In the north of the city, a drone's throw from the airport, is our final taproom for Hamburg. Circle 8 offers a modest and homely space, just a few benches and bar in the front room of a working microbrewery. All beers sell for an even €3 a glass and there's no pils or helles on the board.

My first mark on the beermat was for Darkness, a black IPA. It's dry and dank, stout-thick with lots of resins, bringing an intensely funky aroma and a flavour of spiced red cabbage. 6.4% ABV allows plenty of room for the big characteristics to stomp about in it, and the customary German cleanness is definitely absent. It's not missed. The dryness intensifies almost to the point of astringency, though the heavy texture and big hops save it. Not an easy beer to drink but the effort is rewarded.

For herself, something called High Rice Maltitude, brewed using rice and ginger. This is a pale yellow colour and has a sunny lemonade aroma. It tastes quite shandy-like, despite a full 4.7% ABV, yet at the same time it's not sweet. Dry ginger ale is probably a better descriptor, and it has a similar high level of fizz. Either way, it's pleasant and thirst-quenching, if not very much like real beer.

I stayed dark on the next round, choosing the Smokey Porter. There was a powerful smell of turf fires from this 6%-er. The flavour was even stronger, turning to that iodine note you get from drying seaweed, with a tang of meaty kippery smoke thrown in too. Overall it was just too intense for my liking. I would have preferred some sort of balancing contribution from the dark malts -- a bit of chocolate or coffee, perhaps. Approach with caution unless you really like your beery phenols.

And beside that is Stone Circle, a nod to prehistoric ale brewing, using heather honey and raspberries. No surprise in the absence, or near-absence, of hops that the raspberries dominate completely. It smells of a fresh punnetful and tastes like raspberry ripple ice cream. I thought it was going to be completely one-dimensional, but there's a bitterness in the finish, herbal perhaps, with flakes of coconut. A rising boozy heat from the 7% ABV gives the whole thing the air of a sherry trifle, and who doesn't love trifle? I could see this working well as a dessert beer.

The visit was rounded out with a five-grain IPA called 5K-IPA. It's a heavy affair, quite dark for an IPA and murky with it. The aroma is heady purée'd strawberries and there's lots of ripe sticky strawberries in the flavour as well. Balance? You get a harsh hop burn to counter that, violently. This is tough drinking. I found the intense sweetness harder to handle than the rough and acrid hops, though neither is at all kind. A helles would have been appreciated at this point.

Still, some very interesting beers on the go at Circle 8, and very different from the mainstream. I recommend making the journey if you're in Hamburg.

For the final post we stay in Hamburg but drink beers from further afield.

Sucking down Hamburgers

The destination was Hamburg for the 2018-19 New Year's trip, largely because it's close and easy to get to, though I'd been hearing good things about the beer scene there in recent years. I got a modest bit of exploring done over the few days, stymied a little by holiday opening hours and the brewers' own winter breaks. Here's what I did find.

Ratsherrn features pretty big, its beers finding their way into local bars, specialist beer shops, convenience stores and supermarkets alike. They operate from a complex of converted warehouses by Sternschanze station which includes a microbrewery (presumably they do full-scale production elsewhere), a roomy off licence, event space and a bar/restaurant called Altes Mädchen.

I had their Pale Ale before, so we'll start here with Ratsherrn Pilsener, which comes in a green bottle for reasons best known to itself. It's one of those dusty, musty, noble-hopped pilsners, not the sort I like. There's an almost sandy, throat-scorching acridity that severely limits its ability to be refreshing. I get crêpe paper, old furniture and cobwebbed attics, finishing on a bitter kick of green spinach -- the one pleasant note. I'm sure this is stylistically all above board, and I've certainly tasted plenty like it. It's just very much not for me.

Nevertheless, on a visit to Altes Mädchen I decided to chance a flight of their special edition pilsners: the New Era series. They seem quite proud of them.

The one which intrigued me most from the list was Pfeffersack, a pils with ras el hanout spice mix added -- is that even legal in Germany? I hope so because it came out lovely: a lemon zest aroma leading to a flavour which mixes piquant white pepper with a bergamot and lime citrus. Very different and extremely tasty; the sort of thing that brings me back to a time when adding weird ingredients to beer was out of the ordinary and more fun.

The Dry Hopped one mixes German variety Sapphire with Citra and Simcoe resulting in an aroma that's unmistakably citrus fruit, but warm and rounded, not sharp. Like the previous two it's 4.9% ABV but feels somehow stronger with a thick and slightly syrupy texture. The first sip brought an unpleasant twang of washing-up liquid, followed by a serious dose of dank resin, and nothing more subtle going on in between. This is trying too hard to be all cool and American-style, losing the run of itself in the process.

Unsurprisingly, the darkest of the lot is the 7.5% ABV Imperial Pilsener. I've disliked this style intensely enough in the past to swear off choosing it altogether, for the most part. This one was rather good, however. I think that's mainly because they didn't go disproportionately overboard with the noble hops and there's a pleasant black pepper aroma plus a flavour of freshly-baked cookies on a rich and warming malt base. A gentle layer of marmalade is as citrus as this mellow fellow gets.

When I came to the Session Pilsener next I realised I was probably drinking them in reverse order. "But all pilseners are session pilseners!" I hear you squeal. Well this one is 3% ABV so sessionier than most, I suppose. It does just taste like a watered down lager, though. There are some nice grass notes and a dusting of lemon sherbet, but it all fades to nothing indecently quickly. I don't see a use case for this beer.

We return to the standard 4.9% ABV with Nordic Pilsener. I had the same problem with this as with the flagship pils: just too musty, bitter and dry. I was very glad, finishing off, that the others had ventured so much further from the original recipe.

Flipping to the warm-fermented side, Ratsherrn's IPA is called Coast Guard: an old-school dark and bitter lad of 6.3% ABV. The new-world resins are off the charts with this, "balanced" by a deep dark caramel that leans towards roastiness. And yet despite being heavy and filling, it's not sticky or cloying. I'm never not impressed by how German craft brewing instils a cleanness to the most unlikely of beer styles.

Altes Mädchen has an extensive list of guest beers too, local and international. Landgang Brauerei is another Hamburg outfit, and that's their Dunkle Macht rye porter next to the Coast Guard. This is 6.8% ABV and a cola-red colour. I wasn't expecting peat, but peat there is aplenty in the aroma. The flavour is rather more subtle, mixing smoke with chocolate in a way that's (yes this is obvious) sweet yet dry. Again with the cleanness, and no acrid phenols outstaying their welcome. This is peat porter done very well.

The other Landgang beer I got to try was an IPA called Amerikanischer Traum, discovered in an Irish bar which was one of the few neighbourhood options early on New Year's Eve evening. They weren't fussy about glassware and we weren't fussed. The beer itself was lovely: a spicy grapefruit aroma, leading to sour candy and a bath-bomb of mixed herbs, flowers and minerals. It's a little on the sticky side but never becomes overwhelming or difficult.

The final Hamburg brewery for today is Buddelship. I didn't get to the place itself but did drop by their pub in the city centre, Oorlam. It's a cosy corner premises with a bit of a '70s living room vibe. The taps pour a mix of Buddelship beers and guests, and genever is another speciality.

Just beer for me, beginning with the silliness of a "New England Pilsner" called Mr W. And they say Germans have no sense of humour. It was only slightly hazy, though definitely had that smooth NEIPA texture, plus a rocky head of foam. Yet from that came not pineapple nor garlic aromas, but a proper north-German pilsner grassiness: heady and resinous. Despite the softness, the flavour is crisp and clean, if not especially bitter. I went in cynical but came away charmed: they really have harnessed the best elements of both styles without any flaws or weirdness. Don't knock this style until you've tried it.

The small glass of dark beer beside it is Smook in de Piep, a smoked porter of a sizeable 9.6% ABV. It smells of all that alcohol and more, intensifying to marker pens and adding hot burning turf. It's less dramatic on tasting, but still shows lots of complexity: dry at first, before opening into coffee, cherries and Jägermeister. The smoke does get a bit lost, but that's probably a mercy. Though its body is lager-light it still works well as a sipper. While a little off-kilter it does the style justice.

We'll be back to Oorlam for guest beers later in the week. Meanwhile, for takeway drinking, The Steelyard is Buddelship's pale ale. It's a substantial 5.6% ABV. A lime and grapefruit punch starts it off, but it's quickly rendered sweet by the crystal malt base, turning to marmalade or chew sweets rather than pure citrus flesh. The texture is beautifully soft, which adds to the easy-going candy vibe. It might be a little heavy for prolonged drinking, but one was very tasty.

And Buddelship's core IPA is called Great Escape. It's 6.5% ABV, pale and hazy, with lots of sharp grapefruit in its aroma. This time the bitterness gets free rein to dominate the flavour, the only brakes on it being a touch of savoury yeast. It doesn't turn too harsh, however, finishing nicely (and typically) clean, while also benefiting from the same softness found in the previous one. It hides its strength well too. I think I'd like a little more bitter power in this, but it's still tasty as is, and likely much more sessionable than the pale ale.

More of what's brewing in Hamburg next, and we'll even get to see a couple of the places where they do it.

In search of cosy

Arriving into rural Shropshire for Christmas, the first port of call was the local, The White Horse. They generally have a Christmas offering of some sort on the wickets, and this time it was Hollybob from Wye Valley, I didn't have much hope for it, and less when it poured brown and seemingly lifeless. It turned out rather decent, however. There's nothing at all Christmassy about it, or nothing obvious anyway: no spicing or fruit gimmickry. Instead it's dry and tannic, like a super-strong cup of very black tea. There's a bit more substance than is usual for this style: a balancing caramel sweetness and a certain creaminess to the texture, which I guess is what fits it for winter, and it does a better job than a packet of dried cinnamon would. This is a very gulpable, refreshing yet characterful dark bitter, one I'd happily be snowed in with.

The other, non-seasonal, bitter on tap was Brew XI from Mitchell's & Butler's, a bit of a throwback in Birmingham brewing, sparking memories in some locals of the years when it was the only cask ale available. From the inauspicious badge I wasn't expecting much from this, and it delivered even less. We're talking the basic level of basic brown bitter. Sweet caramel set on a thick malt base with no balancing hop. The nearest thing to balance it offers is a salty tang, a little like you'd find in cheap milk chocolate. With a dull beer I could have at least relaxed into my surroundings and forgot about what's in front of me; this sugarbomb, however, demanded my attention and was just too much work to down before moving back to the Hollybob.

That's it for pub drinking. A jolly pre-Christmas lunch in The Bottle & Glass in Picklescott and a Boxing Day swifty at The Stiperstones Inn yielded some lovely beers but nothing I haven't written about previously. On to the takeaways, then.

The Shropshire town of Ludlow has developed something of a gastronomic brand for itself. That's the main reason, faced with a supermarket shelf of unfamiliar beers, I opted for three from the Ludlow Brewing Company. They wouldn't be allowed use the name if their beers weren't excellent, right?

Gold is your basic golden ale (I think: there's almost no information about it on the label) and pours thinly with a desultory short-lived head. It smells... beery, of bitterly metallic English hops and honey-sweet malt: not an unpleasant smell at all. That's more-or-less what you get for a flavour too, the honey dialled up at the front; the tinny tang providing a finish. I'm honestly not sure whether to admire the crisp and light refreshing texture, or bemoan its thinness: both are valid positions. Overall, it's fine. Classically English, devoid of flaws and I am certain it works better served cool from a cask.

Middle of the set is The Boiling Well, and "premium ale" is as detailed as the description gets. Head retention is an issue again. It's dark red and, as expected, a fairly average caramel-forward ale; a brown bitter, I suppose, but sharing a lot of features with mid-range Irish red ale. There's a growing banana ester as it warms, some gunpowder spice and a mineral tang. Not enough to make it genuinely interesting, though.

Last of the set is Stairway, I guess a pale bitter or even an IPA, at 5% ABV. The head sticks around a bit longer on this one and there's an enticing citric aroma. It tastes clean and sharp, like posh lemonade with a waxy bitter finish. There's virtually no aftertaste, just a gentle lemony buzz. This is the best of the three, showing great character while still being easy-going and refreshing. Like the blonde, it instils a curiosity about the cask version, a format to which it too seems better suited.

From over the border in Llandudno comes Great Orme's Brewdolph winter warmer. 5% ABV and a dark garnet shade, topped with a lovely creamy layer of snow-white foam. The flavour is a Victorian Christmas riot of plums, figs, liquorice and fruitcake with a dry and bitterly roasted finish, somewhere between a dubbel and a stout. No fruit or spice additions went into this so all the winter-wonderland effect is down to the brewer's art and nothing else. It's complex, tasty, warming and filling -- absolutely ideal winter fare.

Closer to base, there's Hobsons, who celebrated 25 years in business during 2018 with Amber Journey Ale. Surprisingly, it's more a golden colour than amber, but doubles back with a flavour of toffee and biscuit that's much more typical of an amber ale. An American one specifically, as the malt is studded with lightly citric and mildly dank hops, leading to a peppery finish. It's only 4.4% ABV and gently carbonated, which makes for very easy drinking and excellent refreshment qualities. It might be a little too sweet for several at once, but the single I had went down lovely.

Postman's Knock ruby porter is one I was sure I'd had before, but research indicates it was just the barrel-aged version, two Christmases ago. It's ruby indeed, a translucent garnet colour, and the carbonation is once again low and cask-like. Milk chocolate is the predominant flavour and there's a slightly acrid boiled-veg acidity in the finish. Though I'm sure it's exactly as the brewer intended, I wasn't as fond of this as I usually am of Hobsons beers. The dark malt is too sweet and the hops too bitter, resulting in unbalanced extremes in both directions. I can see why they thought putting it in a whisky barrel was a good idea.

From Wychwood comes Arrowaine, a 3.6% ABV dark ale. So... a mild, then? Perhaps the m-word is insufficiently cool for the all-important brand style. It's pleasingly black, with a stable pillar of off-white foam and quite fruity to taste, bringing plum and raisin. There's a backing of dark chocolate and some slightly hot marker pen. It's surprising how big it feels and tastes, doing a convincing impression of a much stronger beer. Classic mild it ain't, but it's very decent, balanced, and largely lacking in flaws. Wychwood at its best.

The national brands selection in a major supermarket turned up Montana Red Rye Ale from Fuller's. It's a fairly straight-up American-style amber ale, mixing toffee with citric hops, and I guess you get a little more bitterness than usual from the inclusion of the rye. It's only 4.5% ABV, and a little thin on it, but there are also more complex sparks of gunpowder and a dry roasted crunch. Yes the branding is a little dad-dancey, but the beer inside is a rock-solid example of the style, hitting all the right marks.

And from the same place, a token (possibly) American. I don't know where the UK supply of Goose Island beer is brewed these days. Midway is a session IPA of 4.6% ABV. I got a sense of the zingy Goose Island IPA of old from the dark gold appearance. There's a bit of it in the aroma too: grapefruit and biscuit in perfect harmony. The flavour is quite plain, bringing light stonefruit and a gentle caraway. While there is a bitter grapefruit tang and spice in the finish, it's all quite muted, tasting washed-out and industrial. I guess this is fine for a mass-market supermarket beer, but it tastes a bit cheap and lowest-common-denominator.

From most of the above, it seems that traditional British ale continues to thrive. There certainly doesn't seem to be any shortage of it.