The break-out room

The World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon) rolled into Dublin in mid-August. I'm far from a serious fan, but when a world event arrives in town it would be a mistake not to go. So I went. And thoroughly enjoyed it. In and around the panels and whatnot, there was a limited time for beer. It coincided with my itching to take the nearby new JD Wetherspoon -- The Silver Penny -- through its paces before the shine wears off.

My first beer there was Brewster's Aromantica, a golden bitter. It's very dry, in two ways at once. A hop-derived metallic bitterness runs in parallel to husky musty cereal. There's little softness of any kind, neither malt cake or hop fruit. Squinting, I could just about detect some grapefruit pith but that just adds a different sort of severity. It's certainly not what I was expecting from the name. Tough love, I guess.

Dublin Blue Lager has been around for a while now, pitched as a super-cheap (for Dublin) option in pubs I never go to. Synergistically it has become the house lager of The Silver Penny, and now that its production has moved from the Netherlands to Dundalk Bay, represents the pub's only independent Irish beer offering. Dublin Blue's standalone brewery has been under construction for some time now, in the bowels of the Parnell Centre, though I'd be surprised if they switched production of the lager to it when and if it opens.

It's a sweet beer, showing a lot of Czech-style golden syrup, though a bit too much. Where lovely fresh Saaz should be sweeping in and providing luscious grassy balance, there's just a tinny twang. I guess they're going for something that tastes like Budweiser or Coors Light and I, for one, cannot fault them for achieving it. I don't particularly like it, though. The pub's turbo-charged chiller meant that it was at least palateable to begin with, but by half way down it developed a heavy toffee character. Not full-on butterscotch, but still something that good lager shouldn't do. I got through my pint but I won't be putting this on my list of acceptable distress purchases.

Worthy of its place on Pumpclip Parade is Box Steam's Piston Broke, a 4.5% ABV bitter, though the brewery calls it a golden ale. Thankfully the beer is much better than the name, being bright and zingy, mixing sweet juicy bubblegum with a sterner citrus zest, finishing on a spike of hard waxy English bitterness. The flavour is super-clean, each element standing alone but contributing to the overall picture. A significant dose of tannin helps dry it out and results in something thirst-quenching and extremely quaffable. This may not be up there with the greats of English bitter but it does show a lot of the features that makes those beers classics.

I had hitherto been put off trying the Motörhead theme beer, Röad Crew, I think by memories of the terrible Iron Maiden theme beers brought out by Robinsons. This is from fellow northern English brewery Cameron's, another I've never been especially fond of. But here it was, inescapable. I put prejudice aside and ordered a pint. And it's actually not half bad. The badge says "American pale ale" but it's much more an English golden ale, big of body with a bittersweet honey flavour at its core. After a mild waxy finish it all tails off quietly and politely. It's not very rock-n-roll, only that it would be quite easy to drink a lot of it. Worth a go if you see it on cask; I'm not sure it would translate very well to bottle.

Brentwood Brewery has featured in Irish Wetherspoons before, though Brentwood Blonde was new to me. It's a rather dull affair: 3.8% ABV, with a taste of effervescent lemon vitamin tablets if I'm feeling charitable, and laundry detergent if I'm not. That varied during the course of the pint. While it's too dull overall for either feature to be described as dominant, there is an abiding bleachy twang that sets my assessment to negative. 0 for 2, Brentwood. Impress me next time.

Stag from Exmoor is described as a "naturally strong bitter" which implies the brewery isn't in control of the fermentation. I'm sure that's not the case. It's all of 5.2% ABV and a dark copper colour. It doesn't taste especially strong, but then it doesn't taste of a whole lot in general, representing the twiggy-brown-bitter category quite competently. A slight hint of salted caramel; a mildly acrid woody dryness; and that's your lot. Despite the blandness it's too heavy to be easy drinking. Authentically old-fashioned is about the best I can say of it. Doubtless there's a demographic but it's not me.

Keeping it West Country, it's Great Western Brewery next. From a distance I thought the clip artwork had a look of Left Handed Giant about it: Bristol fashion, you might say. This is Moose River in the American Pale Ale style. There's a slight haze to the dark gold colour and I'm assuming that's deliberate as the beer is almost perfectly clean. There's a slight fuzz to the texture but nothing that interferes with its flavour. Said flavour is mildly citric -- lemon sherbet and orange jelly -- softening further into nectarine and peach. For a fairly chewy beer the finish is quick: I would have liked a bitter flourish on the end to assert its American credentials but none was forthcoming. It's good, though. Like a lot of English cask beer purporting to be American-style, it's really just a minor twist on decent bitter. If that's what it takes to sell the stuff I don't mind one bit. It's a hell of a lot better than any American takes on English-style cask beer that I've tried, for sure.

It's been a while since any Titanic beer came my way. This one is Captain Smiths, described, vaguely, as a ruby ale. Sure enough it's a garnet colour, topped by an off-white head. I was expecting toffee, caramel and all the usual red-ale stuff, but the beer had other ideas. Right from the start there's a cherrylike tartness. I don't know if it's meant to be there -- many's an English ale would be considered "off" with it -- but it works fantastically well with the other flavours. The beer behind it isn't the flabby slab of caramel I feared but a complex Fry's-Turkish-Delight mix of rosewater and cocoa. Add the souring effect, and some more typically English dry tannins, and you get something akin to a Flanders red ale but in a sessionable, low-carbonation, package. The auburn ales they sell in Wetherspoon rarely give me anything to shout about, but this pint rocked.

My Wetherspoon marathon finishes on Wobbly Bob from Phoenix. It seemed to be quite popular among the locals, and I suspect the 6% ABV had a lot to do with that. It's quite an intense experience, heavy on the aniseed, cardamom and assorted other dried goods from the apothecary shop. To balance this intense bitterness there's an intense sweetness too: an edge of burnt caramel. Despite the busyness of the flavours it's quite harmonious, a sugary lozenge dusted with herbs and seasoning. A pint would be hard work, I'd say, but a half really reinvigorates the palate after a sequence of dull offerings.

At the Convention Centre itself there's a house pale ale from Five Lamps named after the building's shape: Tilted Drum. I figured it was a rebadge but 4.6% ABV doesn't ring any bells so I don't know what of. It's the pale amber of a lager and quite soft textured, with a soda effervescence. There's an old-fashioned, Cascade-like piney bite with a whisper of apricot behind it. This is mostly quite dry, and definitely balanced towards that hop bitterness, but it narrowly avoids being harsh. When one is facing the limited choices of an event bar, and desperate for some hop stimulation, this fits the bill rather nicely.

Of course, Urban Brewing is also in the locality, and had a bunch of new releases on tap. Starting low, there's a Micro IPA at 3.2% ABV. It's very pale looking, the wan yellow of an American adjunct lager. There's a sweet and fruity aroma: stewed apples and raisins like a Danish apple pie. Tastewise it's much bitterer, showing a rasp of grapefruit pith and and curl of dry smoke too. A hint of husky grain arises in the finish, providing a token malt balance. The texture is light without being thin or watery. Overall, it's a tasty, spicy sessioner, exactly what the style demands.

Summer brought a Raspberry Wit to the Urban line-up. I was expecting it to be pink, but it looks like a regular wit: a hazy pale orange. The fruit is slow to arrive. Its aroma is dry and grainy while the foretaste is a sweet porridge. After a moment, the real-tasting tart raspberries come through. I guess the intention is to balance the malt but it just piles one extremity on top of another. The end result is a busy confection, thick-tasting without being actually thick. It's not the zippy summer refresher I had been hoping for; too sharp and too sticky.

The new Kveik DIPA is 7.8% ABV and a beautiful deep auburn colour. The texture is barley-wine-thick and the flavour gently floral, a meadowy buzz of lavender and chamomile. There's a base layer of caramelised candy sugar and a dry, almost burnt, rasp finishes it off. Given the strength, the dark colour and the lack of hop, "Kveik Barley Wine" might have been a more appropriate name. It's good, though: a warming sipper which is just complex enough.

Phew! I wasn't expecting this to be quite the multi-volume epic it turned out to be. At least cycling from convention to pub and back several times a day kept my legs well stretched. The Silver Penny is the first of a pair of central Wetherspoons to open and is very convenient for transport and events in Dublin. I can see myself making much further use of it, and look forward to including it in my October Real Ale Festival explorations next month.