Prepare the way!

The second British multinational to set up a brewery on the Liffey is due to open its doors very soon. BrewDog Outpost Dublin will be a neat little (1166 sq.m) bar, restaurant and brewery, situated at the far end of the south quays in a brand new building. Ahead of its arrival, BrewDog's PR people look to have set out a marker, shipping a freebie set of core range beers to various media, including me. As it happens I have somewhat lost track of the brewery's core range so was glad to receive them, especially the pair I had never tasted.

To begin, Lost Lager, the latest in a long series of core lagers by BrewDog. I've quite enjoyed most of them so I don't know why they keep swapping new ones in. This is billed as a dry-hopped pilsner, at a middle-of-the-road 4.7% ABV. It's the pale yellow of an American light lager, crystal clear with an authentically tall mitteleuropa-style head. For something dry-hopped there's not much aroma, maybe a mild squeeze of lemon and then some crisp lager malt. The flavour is plain too; vapid, even. There's nothing authentically pilsner-like, just a candied lemon middle, and a metallic bitter rasp leading to a super fast zero-taste finish. Saphir is the unorthodox hop used, and while it gives a more modern (ie American) taste, it doesn't do as good a job as, say, Saaz would. Further proof, if it be needed, that old codgers like me aren't BrewDog's demographic. This is very plain fare overall, like they designed a beer for people who are afraid of drinking beer.

What about people who don't drink? After years of presenting the dark and bitter Nanny State, BrewDog now added Punk AF (and only BrewDog could court controversy with a non-alcoholic beer). Choosing to connect the product to Punk IPA was a brave move, and since they sent me both I couldn't resist drinking them sequentially. Punk AF doesn't look like Punk. It's extremely pale, with a very short-lived head, resembling a filtered draught cider more than a beer. "Juicy tropical fruit" says the can copy optimistically, but no: it's very thin, with a sweetness that's more diluted cordial than tropical juice. There's a pinch of dankness on the finish, which is a pleasant surprise but really does nothing to redeem the beer overall. I'm unconvinced by this thin, fizzy and bland effort. It may avoid most of the pifalls that beset alcohol-free beer, but Punk it ain't. I confirmed that with my subsequent can of Punk. There's a slight similarity in the aroma, but the colour, the flavour and above all the texture mark Punk (whatever you think of its individual merits) as a proper beer in a way that Punk AF isn't.

This pair weren't a great advert for a forthcoming new brewery, but we'll see. Small-batch automatically means good, right?