The peninsular life

Madriders don't appear to recognise Cervecera Península as one of their own. It's a little outside the city, in the brewery-appropriate suburb of Alcobendas. And though it's tucked away on an unlovely industrial estate, it does get a substantial crowd to its taproom of a Friday evening. I spent the day there on EBCU business, pausing work occasionally to sample the wares. Founder Roman is Venezuelan and began brewing in Colorado and California so those are the sensibilities he brought to his own operation in Spain.

My explorations began with La Granja, a saison. It's a clean and wheaty one with a lemony hop kick up front and then a longer peach skin bitterness to finish. It goes easy on the farmhouse earthiness, but there's just enough of a funk. This is an understated, unfussy, beautifully refreshing number. The only crime is that at a full 5% ABV it oughtn't be quaffed in the manner it demands.

L: La Granja, R: Chills

Beside it, Chills, the brewery's take on Kölsch. It doesn't look like one, mind, being even hazier than the saison. Noble hops are present and correct in the green salad-y aroma and it mostly tastes clean, with only a little unfiltered fuzz creeping into the texture. There's a wholesome granary toast effect from the malt, again believably Kölsch-like. This is another easy-going quencher and doubtless goes a bomb on warm summer days.

Getting into the more involved stuff, my next was a 6% ABV kveik-fermented IPA called Back to the East. It's a fashionable shade of opaque custard yellow and tastes how it looks: sharp burning garlic and dreggy, cloying yeast. All the accusations that are thrown -- often unfairly -- at hazy IPA by its critics are valid in this one.

For the brewery's anniversary each year (there have been two of them so far) they re-brew the first beer they made, the aptly titled Batch 1. It's a 5.5% ABV amber ale, tasting a little like toffee and a little like jam but also with a heavy dollop of mucky yeast right in the middle. It improves a little as it warms, becoming rounder and smoother, but never loses its central flaw. Scheduling a beer to meet an anniversary is probably tough, but I think this one would have been better left in the tank a while longer.

The other throwback to the early days of Península is their core pale ale Hop On. This is a retro reddish gold colour, beginning on a bitter spike of hop resins, turning to a slightly nasty plastic or rubber note. There's some gentler, pleasant, summer berry flavours in the finish, and the hop bitterness is certainly invigorating, but again there's something wrong at the heart of this beer that really spoils the enjoyment factor.

L: Naina Bien, R: Puro Tropikal

My run of bad luck came to an end, sort of, with Puro Tropikal, another pale ale. This is a bright clear orange colour and 5% ABV. Despite the name, it's a dank and oily affair, coating the palate in resins. It's an ungimmicky, rock-solid example of the American-style pale ale and I enjoyed it a lot. You'd be disappointed if you came to it looking for the taste of passionfruit or guava, however.

Something sour next: Naina Bien, with added mango and cranberry. A genuine Florida brewery, Tripping Animals, collaborated on this Florida weisse. At 5.6% ABV it's stronger than most of these, while the appearance is a murky shade of orangey pink. There's a sharp acidic pinch in the aroma though the flavour is more rounded, letting the soft side of the fruit come through. There's an unexpectedly fun peppery spice and no yeast bite, despite the appearance. It's not sweet, it's not thick, it is properly sour and I had a great time with it.

There was just one guest beer on tap, from San Sebastián's delightfully-named Gross brewery. Belgiak Ireki is an IPA of 6% ABV. It's a bit of a mixed bag, with a savoury sesame seed thing and a touch of yeast bite on one side, versus an intense fresh lime bitterness on the other. Luckily, the kicking American hops win the day and it's perfectly possible to ignore the negative aspect while you drink. Balance and nuance can wait.

We finish with Península's Galactic trilogy. Cue the fanfare: A long time ago...

Lightest of the three is Galactic Eclipse, a milkshake IPA. It's quite clear for all that and has both sweet and savoury elements running in parallel. Just about, mind: I think they have been very sparing with both the lactose and the hops, and the end result is rather dull. 5.8% ABV is maybe low, but there should be enough of a base here to have done something more interesting.

Moving up to 7% ABV, we find the DDH IPA, Galactic Sunrise. It's a pretty good interpretation of the New England style, and while it could stand to be juicier, I actually enjoyed the mild garlic of the foretaste and sticky vanilla finish, and wasn't bothered by a sprinkling of yeast residue. It's the way the flavours are well-integrated with no extreme or jarring elements that charmed me. It could easily pass for much lighter than it is.

And finally the double IPA, predictably called Galactic Sunset. This is amber coloured and is rather two-dimensional, dividing its time between heavy toffee and equally heavy hop dankness. It's crying out for some bright and fresh hop high-notes, but they're completely absent. Though only one percentage point higher than the previous beer, it's much harder work to drink.

These three look like they're meant to be a prestige offering but I don't think they've quite got it right.

A mere seven and a half hours after arriving at Península it was time to go. The next day would bring another brewery to squat in.