Not Joyce's choices

Spot the Theresianer lighthouse

Beer was not top of the agenda for my visit to Trieste, and it's not really a beery city, though like any city of any size these days, there are pockets of a scene. It's an unpretentious, buzzy and chatty sort of town -- unmistakably Italian despite its time spent as the largest seaport of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The harbour is a bit down-at-heel now and the city feels like it has turned its back on it. The city centre occupies a patch of largely reclaimed land before sloping dramatically upwards. Steeply winding streets and staircases are a speciality.

The totemic beer brand of Trieste is Theresianer, one which wears an image of the old lighthouse on its label. It's brewed quite a distance from the city, closer to Venice, and I've covered a lot of the range previously in these two posts. However, I found two breweries operating inside the city itself.

Bire, out along the harbour promenade, is trying to be the fancy one. It occupies a big space on the ground floor of a grand palazzo, the inside stripped back to bare stone and copper pipework, with Czech-style serving tanks suspended from the vaulted ceiling. Money was spent on this. Money which would have been better spent on the kitchen ventilation system as the grease smells pervading the whole premises made it impossible to sit inside. It's also not one of those crafted-with-love, playful experimentation breweries: there's a small list of basic styles, several of which weren't available.

I still would have started with Bire Pils anyway. It's 4.8% ABV and shows the yellow haze of typical by-the-numbers brewpub lager. In the plus column there's a pleasant golden syrup malt sweetness, though the noble green bitterness sent to balance it feels a little forced or tacked-on. A twang of vinegar on the very end suggests a flaw in the brewing process or maybe beer that isn't moving as fast as it needs to. Either way, I figured I had the measure of the place from this wonky offering.

So just one other beer to report on: Bire Red IPA. This poured murky and undercarbonated. The aroma started out decent, with some fresh citrus juice, but also some worrying chlorophenol vapours too. That all but takes over the flavour, delivering a ghastly jolt of TCP on the first sip. It's just possible to detect the subtle mandarin notes which I'm sure they wanted in behind, but it's infected and bad and shouldn't have been on sale.

You needn't put Bire top of your beer agenda for Trieste.

There was much more of a quirky sense of fun to be found at Birrificio Cavana. It's tucked away down a sidestreet off a sidestreet and is minuscule: just three or four tall tables inside, a short counter with a rudimentary kitchen behind, and squeezed in along one side, behind glass, the brewery. It feels like drinking in a phonebox.

And yet they managed a list of five beers across a variety of styles. Pilsner first, of course: Bionda Chiara ("light blonde") as they've either named or described it. Though 4.5% ABV it's not all that light: a dark gold colour in the glass, and perfectly clear for a change. That matches a heavy, almost creamy, mouthfeel, but that's where the plaudits end. While there's nothing wrong with it, there's not much going on either: it's crisp and plain like plain crisps, and a mild wisp of dry grass on the finish is the only real nod to proper flavour. Another brewpub lager created for the drinker scared of trying anything else, I think.

The Strong Ale beside it showed rather more heft. This dark red number is 7% ABV and smells strongly of banana, though more in the dubbel way than a weissbier. There's a definite Belgian-style spice coming from the yeast, and then loads more banana esters. I'd classify it somewhere between a dubbel and a dunkelweiss. If the banana doesn't bother you too much it's quite palatable.

We had just dipped into autumn but the Summer Ale was still on tap. It's a name that suggests lightness and easy-drinking so I was surprised to be served a glass of copper-coloured beer and even more surprised by the bizarre flavour. I actually don't remember the details now but my notes burble on about coconuts, rosewater, Earl Grey tea, incense, cardamom and bubblebath. Trippy, man. I liked it though, in a lol-what-is-this sort of way.

Olga is the weizen, a light one at just 4.5% ABV, served in a proper tall glass. It's crisp and spicy, an easy-going variety of the species. That said, it's full of complexity, with celery notes from the hops, gunpowder from the yeast and warm cookies from the malt, including hints of cinnamon and almond. That sounds much busier than it actually is. It's a beer you can relax with, and allow the flavours to unfold gradually.

The inevitable IPA is called Megan: after the all-conquering American soccer star? I dunno. This is a hazy amber colour and gives off an aroma of tinned strawberries. It's even more strawberry-like on tasting, with a dry and resinous bitterness behind. There are significant quantities of tannins as well, and a certain heat from 6% ABV. This is another off-kilter but enjoyable one, copperfastening my conclusion that Cavana's whimsical playfulness is part of its charm.

I only had one beer at the Trieste venue with perhaps the best reputation for beer: Taverna Ai Mastri d'Arme. I didn't even get to see the inside, sitting out in the small courtyard in front, served by a bearded giant in a Galway Bay Brewery t-shirt. Black Lullaby is from Retorto, a brewery in Emilia-Romagna, and is described as a "Belgian dark strong ale". That, it turns out, means 8.3% ABV and jet black with lots of foam. The aroma is sweet, like cherry jam, while the flavour presents a mix of cherry liqueur and chocolate on a velvety smooth texture. There's nothing especially Belgian tasting here, but it's very nice.

The strongly maritime, oppressively wood-clad Bounty Pub was the first place I discovered that Italian craft beer bars don't really go in for proper toilets much: a single ceramic hole in the floor suffices for venues that hold sixty or seventy people. If you want to make beer more appealing to women, you could start by sorting that out. Unlike pretty much every other bar we were in, there was an uncomfortably tense atmosphere in Bounty. One beer each, then gone. Both were from Bradipongo brewery, just north of Venice.

Mine was Estout, a cask stout at a very Irish 4.2% ABV. There's a smooth and sweet milky coffee foretaste, with some sharper espresso behind and an odd but fun sprinkling of bitter herbs. There's just enough complexity here to keep a suppable beer interesting all the way through.

A 7%-er for herself: Mafalda, a Belgian-style ale of indeterminate style. It's a murky amber colour with an old-world Christmassy spice aroma and a flavour with liquorice, lavender and caramel. Spiced like a tripel but lighter than a dubbel, I reckon; heavy and warm, and tasty with it too. On this showing, Bradipongo is your go-to for wholesome Italian ales this winter.

Where Bounty Bar is dark and claustrophobic, Hop & Rock is bright and airy, with large windows and whitewashed walls. We were the only punters on the sunny afternoon we dropped by. It was a little hard to imagine it crammed with the evening crowd, though I'm sure that happens.

Sour #1 was my opener, from Hop Skin out of Lombardy. It's a hazy juice-looking orange colour and smells of fresh mango pulp. Thick and sweet like a smoothie, there's lots of real-tasting mango, guava and passionfruit. Next to no beer character though, and nothing to justify the stonking 7.2% ABV. Have I mentioned that I'm sick of "sour" beers that aren't sour? If I'd known this was one of them I wouldn't have ordered it.

That was in stark contrast to the other half of the round, Teodorico, a Baltic porter from Birra Mastino near Verona. This is cola-brown with an off-white head. It's heavily bitter like the best Baltic porters, laying down thick liquorice balanced with rich bourbon biscuit. And all properly lager-clean. Everything required of the style is delivered and it's a happy reminder that there are still grown-up brewers making grown-up beers for grown-ups.

One more quick pair before the pub kicked us out for its mid-afternoon break, beginning with a pils from southerner Eastside, situated between Rome and Naples. It's called Sempre Visa and is 5.5% ABV. I wanted crisp and clean; I got hazy and wholesome, with a grain crunch and a squirt of lemon zest, finishing on fresh green asparagus. It's decent as unfiltered lagers go, giving a proper impression of an unprocessed, natural sort of beer. I have time for that approach.

Ritual Lab's La Bock was a marked contrast, showing some of how diverse lager can be, even in the broadly German styles. This is amber coloured and though a reasonable 6.3% ABV smells very hot and is full-bodied to doppelbock levels. I think a German one would be cleaner; this packs in smoke and burnt caramel instead, with a porter-like chocolate character, finishing on a vegetal green hop note. While a little extreme, it hangs together well and is very tasty.

Today's final pub is Mastro Birraio, a cramped/cosy one-room bar nestling into one of the steeper streets. It looked to be a decent neighbourhood for pubs and restaurants, but as is typical for these things we visited late on our last evening. More than any of the others, this seems to have a clientele of local beer enthusiasts, and the staff were friendly and welcoming.

More pils and more Baltic porter, then. Polaris by Zanna was the former, smooth but bitterly herbal with some basil and traces of the Polaris hop's trademark subtle mint. I'm not sure I'd have spotted it if it hadn't been named. This is, however, the crisp and clean beer I had been looking for earlier. Flawless stuff, and beautifully frothy in its tall flute.

The porter is called No'tt and is from Terre di Faul, right in the middle of the country. It's 7.1% ABV and was served on cask -- possibly the first time I've had a Baltic porter come that way. There's a strange herbal liqueur aroma, of Fernet Branca mixed with vinegar. That concentrates in the flavour, where it's heavy and quite hot. An intense experience is on offer here but I don't think it really works as a beer, turning busy, cloying and difficult to drink. Any lager qualities it may have had are gone too. Disappointing.

There was a grape ale and I hadn't had one in Italy yet so I insisted on staying. This was Le Bucce Bianco from a farmhouse brewery near Venice called Siemàn. It's golden coloured and quite flat, smelling tart and cidery, but that's OK. It tastes of grape must first -- Tai Bianco is the variety used, a signature one of the area. 15 months of barrel ageing results in lots of funky Brett accompanying this, and a peachy gumminess too. 7.3% ABV makes it one to sip and savour, like a good wine. This beauty is exactly the sort of thing I came to northern Italy for, but saw precious little of.

Another barrel-aged sipper alongside that: Barrel Runner from Founders. It seemed somehow appropriate as a pairing, though this double IPA is a full-on 11.1% ABV. There's a powerfully hot aroma from the hazy orange glassful, blending herbs and citrus in quite a sickly way. I was reminded of grappa. It tastes of vanilla, coconut and nasty old-fashioned medicine, making for a harsh and headachey concoction. Beers like this should be mellow and smooth, not loud and busy as this is. Maybe it needs ageing further.

Anyway, that's your fancy bars and breweries of Trieste. We'll wrap up a few more next before moving along.