O'zapft over there

This year's absence of the raucous Erdinger Oktoberfest from Dublin's George's Dock was mourned by few. Neighbouring brewpub Urban Brewing spotted an opportunity, however, and is staging its own version right now, in the newly acquired "suntrap" outdoor space. Three appropriate beers have been produced for the occasion and the management kindly invited me along to try them. I was particularly intrigued by the inclusion of both a Märzen and a Festbier in the line-up. These distinct styles are too often lumped together in anglophone beer discourse.

L-R: Festbier, Märzen, Weissbier

The difference between them was immediately apparent from the colour. Festbier, as utterly distinct from sticky brown American-style Oktoberfestbier, is a pale gold, as this one was, though the slight haze and short-lived head wouldn't pass muster at Theresienwiese. The cloudiness suggests it may have been hurried out before being quite mature, and there's a slight hot estery buzz which roughens up the flavour. Behind this, however, it's a malt beauty: fluffy white bread, its sweetness deepening to spongecake. The texture is almost chewable, rounded in the mouth and full in the belly. No hopping was perceptible, though a dark breadcrust bite brings a modicum of balance to the finish. Crucially, this 5.6%-er manages to be both hearty and by-the-litre quaffable. The bigger the gulps, the less you notice the banana kick up front.

The Märzen is paler than I expected. I was instinctively about to describe it as "amber" but then moved it away from the Festbier and noticed it's actually quite a medium gold; yellow when held to the light. Hazy again, and esters again, but much more muted than in the Festbier. The ABV is lower at 5.3% but the substance is higher. This is almost warming, providing a hug of Vienna and Munich malts. While the Festbier has been stripped down and streamlined for speed, this is a stately lager for taking time over. You want flavour descriptors? (of course you don't) It's bread again, but wholemeal: a brisk brush of grain husk and a kitchen where someone has been using the toaster recently.

And out on the wing there is the Bavarian Weissbier. It's a tough style to impress with and this example doesn't offer anything beyond the classics. Maybe it's the phenolic quality of the beers that went before masking things, but I found this cleaner than most microbrewed examples, yet still rich of texture. At 5.3% ABV it shouldn't have been watery anyway, but it wasn't. Instead it's sleek and smooth, throwing out the clove in a casual and unfussy fashion. Again the hops are a little absent. I like a weizen with a celery bite and you won't find that here. Nevertheless, I'm not a weissbier enthusiast, but this is a very well-made example.

I'm not going to say Urban is offering an authentic Oktoberfest experience: the lagers are not quite there. But if you want to drink a Maß of something bready in the docklands between now and 5th October, they have you covered.

While I was there and the sun was shining I caught up with Urban's summer (very) special, the Mickelada. Where to begin? The official description says it's both an ale and lager and it arrived in a TeKu speckled with salt, pepper and herbs. The crispness and fizz suggest cold fermentation to me, and there's juicy tomato in both the aroma and foretaste. It tails off after that, though a hot-sauce spice gives the gullet a swift once-over. I can see now why they spiced the rim: add in the salty sage and it rounds out beautifully: rich, savoury, and balanced with an assertive piquancy. There's a thinness to the base beer suggesting that it wouldn't really work without the gimmickry, but I liked it, and loved  that a Dublin brewpub is daring to be so silly. Here's something for when you're done with the Reinheitsgebot.