Pastry club

Amazing! Mikkeller's Beer Geek Food Thing series is still running. They're imperial stouts, built sweet, with lots of adjuncts and pastry-type ingredients. I've consumed the ones I've had too far apart to say for sure that they all taste the same, but they all taste the same.

Today we have Beer Geek Dessert, a full-on 11% ABV, brewed at Lervig in Norway. Well, it's black, with a deep brown head hinting at the density to come. And dense it is: downright syrupy, the bubbles trudging their way up through the quagmire. And sweet? Yes, it's sweet: like doughnut glaze or cake icing, the pink sort. There's a hint of bitter espresso at the back of this, coming across as more of an acrid bum note than real balance. The finish is a long and cloying sugary buzz.

This beer has no chill; none of the rich and genteel smoothness I want from an 11% ABV stout. Is it good beer? Maybe, but only just. There's much better out there though.

Compare and contrast with an English pastry stout: Heaven, by Northern Monk. This is the same strength and includes vanilla, chocolate, maple syrup and two types of dark sugar, before ageing in bourbon barrels. Surprisingly, and happily, the sweeter elements aren't as clanging and obvious here: you're having a boozy coffee instead of dessert. Tia Maria and espresso martini both spring to mind from the aroma.

There's a dark chocolate churro-sauce effect in the flavour, as well as wafer biscuit and ripe strawberry. A lacing of harder roast around the edges keeps it honest, adding a dryness that helps balance the main hot-and-silky performance. This is how I like my pastry stouts: barely pastried but all stout.

We dial things back further with the finisher: No/Country from Barcelona's Garage Brewing. The brewery describes this as a "coffee crema Catalana imperial stout" from which I'm inferring the presence of coffee and vanilla. The ABV is 9.6%.

Bitterness features big in this, happily, and is of the dark roast, espresso-ristretto sort, with some high-cocoa dark chocolate too, plus a herbal pinch of liquorice. It's thickly textured, of course, but not sticky and quite light on the alcoholic heat. Something this serious and grown-up doesn't really deserve the pastry label. That said, despite its serious nature, part of me felt something was missing; that a little lightening silliness might have impoved it, or at least rendered it more interesting to drink. Still: no/country, no/complaints.

Given the infinity of possible variants and continued popularity of pastry stouts, I think they'll be with us for some time to come. If I have a piece of advice (and I try to avoid those on here) it's to not revile or adore all of them equally as there's quite a lot of variation on show within the sub-genre. Just like with hazy IPAs, really.

Prague hazy

I bought this bottle of Staropramen Unfiltered in the possibly mistaken belief it was a lager. Czech brewers often release unfiltered versions of their core lagers and I assumed that's what the Prague-based Molson Coors operation was at here. The only indication on the bottle that that might not be the case is the oblique wording "finest hops meet a touch of coriander". They put coriander in a světlý ležák? No, of course they didn't. Turns out it's actually a wheat beer, and presumably warm-fermented.

It looks like one: a warm hazy orange tone, though lacking the tall tight head of a Bavarian weizen. And it smells lagery: a delicious grassy scent strongly indicating the presence of Saaz hops. Which side would win out on tasting?

Sadly: neither. The flavour is very bland indeed. There's a trace of that Saaz grass, while the texture is fun and fluffy, much like a weissbier, but that's pretty much all there is to say. No coriander, no yeast-derived esters and no crisp pilsner cleanness. If pushed I'd say it tastes closer to a lager than anything else, and maybe it has been cold-fermented after all, but if so, to the point of all the character being attenuated out of it.

Yes, Staropramen has never been close to the higher echelons of Czech brewing during my drinking lifetime. I still reserve the right to be disappointed by this latest one.

Three witches

Not many Irish breweries have given me three new beers to review in January but White Hag managed it. I don't even mind that at least two are altered versions of existing core beers.

I was thoroughly fascinated by Little Olcan when it dropped, it being a barrel-aged and wild refermented version of their Mosaic masterpiece Little Fawn. It looks similar: a pale yellow. The flavour is very different, however, offering a strong, thick and spicy mix, all lavender, bergamot and jaffa. While the funky special effects are loud and prominent, there's a down-home solidity here: enough smooth malt base; enough melon and lychee fun. It all works. This is a great introduction to serious funk; it's sharp, it's hard, it's doing all sorts of interesting things at 4 for €10. Jump on board.

Another hacked variant, the brewery's chocolate oatmeal stout got a bit of a makeover with the advent of The White Sow - Mint Chocolate Chip. It's still 5.2% ABV and deeply black, but it smells strongly and clearly of mint fondant, like the inside of an After Eight. And... yep, it tastes quite a lot like After Eights too, though with more of a milk chocolate sensation than dark. There's a slightly harsh buzz of hot concentrated menthol, but luckily the sweet and fluffy base stout has enough of a presence to soften it. The mint's best feature is the long vapour finish -- a beer that freshens your breath! This is a slightly silly experience, but it's enjoyable. The flavours are properly complimentary and set out front and centre with nothing lost along the way. I'm not sure it deserves a permanent place in the line-up but I would welcome it back as a winter seasonal later in the year.

A second flavoured stout to round these off: The Dark Druid, described as a salted caramel pastry stout. It may have some White Sow in its ancestry as it too is 5.2% ABV. I was prepared for a jolt of sweetness but not quite as extremely sweet as this is. Think Milk Tray, think selection boxes, think Easter eggs. It's a tough one to unpack past all the milk chocolate. There is some chewy caramel, though not so much salt, and a waft of rosewater. Maybe that's enough. If you like a sweet stout this is definitely one of the better ones. I'm agnostic, but I appreciated the way it goes all-out with the flavour; no half measures. That said it doesn't get hot, sticky or any way unpleasant, thanks to the relatively low strength. I can see this being a divisive beer, but I liked it.

Nothing boring or dull here. If the flavoured syrups aren't what you want in your beer, have some hoppy Brett instead.

New year, same Brussels

The coda on my New Year trip to the low countries was a couple of days in Brussels. I won't be telling you much about the pub that was top of my to-do list because Joran specialises in cider. It's well worth a visit if that sort of thing interests you, offering as it does a selection of high-end appley goodness (plus perry) from the UK and Europe, bottled, kegged and casked. The place is bright and the service friendly, making for an altogether relaxed environment in which to explore. You can read more about it on Eoghan's blog here. Thanks for the heads-up.

Also via Eoghan I learned that there's a new microbrewery in the downtown foodhall, Wolf. I dropped by on a Friday lunchtime, which was most inopportune. The place was jammed, with queues at most of the food stalls and space hard come by at the rows and rows of benches. The brewery itself doesn't look to be up and running yet. It has a small bar to one side of it and I guess that's where the beers it produces will eventually be available. On my visit they were selling just the core range from the parent brewer, Belgoo.

Making the best of it, I had a glass of Saisonneke Extra, a dry-hopped saison. Not for the first time I mistook a lemon-zest buzz for American C-hops when it's actually Mandarina Bavaria at work. Behind this there's a properly earthy, farmhouse-y saison with sweet and rich apricot esters, a rye-cracker dryness and lots of pleasing palate-scrubbing fizz. It's well-chosen as a beer to accompany food. I associate Belgoo more with daft novelty beers and this taught me that they can do classics as well.

A quick return visit to the L'Ermitage taproom got me a tangerine and lemon Berliner weisse called Sour Krump Premium. This is a light and approachable 3.8% ABV and has a beautifully zingy flavour, sparking with fresh citrus, like a rock shandy, and with a similar sort of ascorbic acidity. It's not extremely sour, but neither is it a glass of jammy nonsense: they've hit the balance just right to make the most of the fruit flavour while retaining the base beer's essential character. I like when that happens.

For herself, a stout called Spider Nicky. This is modestly strong at 5.1% ABV and has a savoury roasted meat aroma. The flavour is quite severely dry, tasting predominantly of burnt toast. A boiled-veg acidity is the sole contribution of its hops, and there's lots of fizz, something that doesn't work as well here as it would in a saison. This one missed the mark for me. I'd prefer a softer, friendlier, sort of stout.

With nothing else of interest we wandered back towards the city centre, stopping, of course, at Moeder Lambic Fontainas. I spotted Ganstaller Keller Pils on the menu here so ordered that instinctively, even though the serving was a most unBavarian 250ml. Now, this pub takes its beer seriously, and does it well but I strongly suspect the beer they gave me was not the Keller Pils. The muddy-looking glass I was served tasted exactly like a weissbier -- big banana and clove rock set on a slick texture. If it is a weiss then it's a middle-of-the-road example, but if it's a pils, something is seriously wrong with the fermentation regime at Ganstaller. I note this week on Fred's blog that there is a Ganstaller weissbier (Gans Weiss) on rotation with the Keller Pils in Belgian pubs at the moment, and that supports my theory of mistaken identity rather better. I didn't feel up to asking my server to double check, so we'll never know for sure.

The dark beer beside it is a De Ranke standard, Noir de Dottignies. It's 9% ABV and a dark chestnut colour, rather than black. The aroma is all dark roast but it's softer to taste, showing very typical Belgian fruit flavours like plum, fig and raisin. Though dense and heavy it's surprisingly easy drinking, the taste being well-integrated with no jump-scares or sharp edges. This could easily pass for a quadrupel and I commend it to fans of that style.

Just as I wasn't going to pass up a Ganstaller beer when I saw one, I also couldn't leave before trying the Italian grape ale on offer. Ridda is a pale one, from Yblon in Sicily. There is some white grape character here, including a perfumed Muscat effect in the background, but mostly this is dry and savoury, tasting of sesame seed more than anything. The lack of complexity may be in part to do with the low 5.5% ABV, however I think also it might benefit from some post-fermentation processing: Brett, barrels, that sort of thing.

No quibbling over strength with the other beer here: De Dochter van de Korenaar's stonking 13% ABV barley wine L'Ensemble. It's the colour of a dark wine: maroon, shading to brown. An aroma of violets and toffee led me to expect a cough mixture flavour but it's lighter than that, and much more fun. Instead, I got chocolate and Turkish delight, sweet but not cloying or hot. The intensity is such that it demands slow savouring, but that's very much worth doing.

A visit to the Horta museum provided an opportunity to call in to the original Chez Moeder Lambic bar, now called Moeder Lambic Original. They had Rose de Gambrinus on cask and I transcended my ticker tendencies to drink two glasses of that in a row. Sorry not sorry. Across the table, the first round brought a French brown ale, Mister Brown, from Piggy in Lorraine. This took a while to pour, fobbing like crazy from the tap. It was worth the wait, though. Its aroma is rich and warm, like a mug of latte coffee, while the flavour starts bitter but smooths out, again taking its cues from coffee more than beer. There's a touch of mocha chocolate, some cola nut and a pinch of green-veg bitterness. Brown malt doing what brown malt does best, here. It's maybe a little sickly, and at 5.8% ABV has plenty of substance. I really enjoyed what I tasted of it, however.

That was followed by a house beer: Moeder Supérieur from Jandrain-Jandrenouille. Like the De Ranke one above, this is dark and vaguely monastic in style, though a mere dubbel-like 7% ABV. Spices mix with the fruit in the aroma: nutmeg on raisins. There's a heavily floral flavour, reminding me of lavender and rosewater, contrasting with dry burnt toast. While not spectacular, it's a very interesting and unusual arrangement of typical dark Belgian flavours, and is much better than a house beer needs to be.

A hankering for Mexican food brought us to El Mexicanito in Ixelles. I recommend it. For those, like me, who rarely get to eat Mexican they have a pleasing option of everything from the menu on one big plate. To wash that down, Ocho Reales, a dark garnet-coloured ale that tasted lager-clean. Big liquorice energy puts it in the dunkelbock end of the spectrum, heading for Baltic porter territory: a lot is packed in at only 5.5% ABV. A body that's full to the point to seeming creamy is the only nod to warm fermentation I could find. The serious dark bitterness gets balanced by a fun sweet note of raspberry cordial. I don't know how commonplace this is in Mexico but it's well worth seeking out. I wish more Mexican restaurants stocked it too.

We did a bit of classic Brussels pub-hopping as well; excursions to À La Bécasse, Le Coq and Le Cirio were enjoyable but yielded no new ticks. At Au Bon Vieux Temps they were pushing Corsendonk Christmas Ale quite heavily, presumably trying to shift stock as the season ends. This is an 8.5% ABV biggie, dark brown of course, and surprisingly bitter. I got masses of aniseed, a hint of bitter herbs (marjoram, maybe?) and then a rush of brown sugar and burnt caramel. It's ungimmicky, which is to say not very Christmassy, and not very exciting either. Maybe the decadent strength is meant to be festive enough.

It had been a long time since I last visited À La Mort Subite, and nearly two decades since I'd sat in the antique main bar. This was the last stop before going home. They advertise something called Gueuze Sur Lie on the draught menu. It arrived a dark hazy orange colour with a sweetish geuze aroma -- Heineken's Mort Subite brand being a byword for the sweetened sort. There is a mildly sour bite in the flavour and lots of woody spices. I liked it. It does manage to hit a lot of the sensory beats of good geuze but without the intense sourness while avoiding the sickliness found in Faro blends. If I had to guess what it is, I'd say a kegged young lambic, but then it wouldn't be a geuze. Still, it does what unfussy draught lambic is meant to do, and I was happy with that.

Another winter seasonal from a mainstream brewer to finish on: Grimbergen Hiver. This is a clear garnet red with a snowy top. It's very dry, tasting of cereal grains and straw. There is perhaps a little honey in the mix but no big and warm winter fruit notes, and just a slight tang of old-world hop bitters. You don't even get a buzz from the booze as it's a downright puritan 6.5% ABV. After this it's just as well the days are getting longer.

Thanks for coming with me on my travels. Normal service resumes back in Dublin on Monday.

Beer, Bosch and beyond

A bit of pub crawling from my New Year Dutch excursion for you today, starting in downtown The Hague. I paid a couple of visits to The Beer Garden, and there I got to try Finale, a high-end limited edition champagne beer from the Grolsch brewery. This is a pure clear gold colour and they nailed the champagne effect in the aroma: white grape and crisp, lightly-browned toast. It's close to champagne strength too, at 10.5% ABV. Unfortunately it all unravels in the flavour. Instead of crispness it's sticky sweet with lots of honeycomb and golden syrup. From champagne to cheap cava in one sip. I really thought they had got this one perfectly right, but the taste is such a lower grade to the aroma. I'm glad I was dealing with a 250ml glass rather than one of the 6000 75cl bottles.

From Amsterdam's Troost, Beer Garden was offering Club Tropicana, billed as a Berliner weisse with no further description. Yes, I should have guessed it would be fruited. And boy is it, arriving an opaque pink colour, looking and feeling more like a smoothie than a beer. There's a lot of jam on the nose, raspberry in particular, with the woody vibe of raspberry seed. The flavour isn't spoiled by the sugar, though it is tangy rather than sour: a zingy kick like rhubarb compote forming the centre of it. It's tasty, and while it's very definitely about the fruit, there's enough of a sour beer presence to make it enjoyable.

Beside it is something called Fluffy IPA by Vet & Lazy of Rotterdam. That sounds like it should be in the New England style but it turned out to be quite dark and resinous, heavily textured in an old-school, west-coast sort of way. The hops are bright in it, showing fresh oranges and an incense spicing. Though only 5.6% ABV it's warming and was suitably wintery. Misnomered, perhaps, but a serious and classical IPA.

Across the square is The Fiddler, a perfectly-preserved former Firkin brewpub which now produces beer under the Animal Army brand. I've written about it before, but new to me was Albino Fox, a 4.5% ABV pale ale they were serving on cask. This settles to a pale and clear amber colour with a flavour that's mostly waxy bitterness and rye crackers. There's a mild honey effect plus a spritz of lemon juice, but that's about all it does. Rather dull, all things considered.

I should have switched to the reliable stout but instead picked Redhead, their red ale. This was also casked and suffered some bad yeast bite. The flavour behind it is OK for a red: some ripe and mushy strawberry set on a milk chocolate sweetness. None of that lasts and there's a rapid watery finish: unforgivable at 5.6% ABV. This was a big red pint of regret.

Hoppzak is a basement bar with the lived-in air of a Hague beer institution. I'd never been before so was delighted to see it open as I was passing. Inside, I picked the Uiltje seasonal from the blackboard: Most Wonderful Time For A Beer. This is described as a "Scottish gruit beer" and is 10% ABV. It's a murky red-brown colour and, unsurprisingly, is very much malt-driven, beginning with a smooth caramel-flavoured base. This is rendered interesting by a mix of sour cherry, cinnamon, nutmeg and chocolate cake notes. The blend of sweet and bitter works rather well and the result is a big warming beer without silliness or gimmickry. Great job.

And if 10% ABV is too much, they also had De Molen's Noble & Nuts "coconut breakfast stout" on, a mere 9.9% ABV. This has a huge coconut and dark chocolate aroma. It's beautifully smooth and the flavours, while unquestionably gimmicky, are integrated perfectly into the beer. This gives all the satisfaction of a big, silky, imperial stout but with an added and very real-tasting crunch of coconut flesh. With the possible exception of the late great Independent Brewing's Coconut Porter, I've never encountered coconut in beer done this well.

We took a side trip to Den Bosch, mostly to see the creepy crib, but got a few beers in too. That began at Proeflokaal 't Paultje and their house beer D'n Gouwe Janus, from local brewery Muifelbrouwerij. It's a pretty straightforward Belgian-style blonde, 5.9% ABV with lots of perfumey herbal and floral elements, shading towards the medicinal. There's a slight overdose of savoury yeast and a sweet cordial finish. It lacks polish, but as a no-thinking-required house beer it's fine.

Another from Uiltje was the canned special: a double IPA called Hops Alone 2. This tasted quite familiar though I'd never tried it before. It's heavy, intensely dank and very hot, even given the 8% ABV. A burst of lime opens the flavour, followed quickly by spring onion and finally some softer satsuma and pineapple. The thick texture makes it one for sipping. Convincingly west-coast but a bit over-egged, I thought.

Not far from the station, in a modern residential zone of Den Bosch, is the Jongens Van De Wit brewpub. It's sparkly and modern, all clean lines and industrial chic, with the shiny fermenters on a mezzanine above the bar floor, supplying serving tanks suspended over the counter below.

L-R: Boze Griet, PIPA, H4

From a quite traditional selection I picked H4, the tripel. This is 8.5% ABV and a clear golden colour. There's a strong banana bread quality to the aroma while the flavour really reflects the strength, turning out marker pens and nutmeg. Most interesting is the white wine elements in the middle: notes of gooseberry and kiwifruit really help lighten it up and offset the heat. More spice or juicy fruit would improve it but I found it quite enjoyable.

On the right is Paleiskwartier IPA, or "PIPA" for short. They're not sure of the ABV, but it's modest: somewhere between 4.5% and 4.7%. It's amber coloured and resinous textured, with a peppery sandalwood spice. A little lavender adds a note of polished furniture and the whole thing gives an impression of old cold churches: very Dutch. Despite the strength it's not an easy-going beer but there's fun to be had with its complex profile.

Finally a 9% ABV barley wine called Boze Griet. This begins on a heavy cough-syrup aroma, which was a little unsettling. The flavour is more refined, however: old port, bourbon biscuits and cherry liqueur. Yes it's hot but it's not excessively boozy, the sum total being a full and satisfying after-dinner sipper.

L-R: Flora, Coffee Malt, Tapit

Heading back to the station for the train home there was just time for a quick round at the Thornbridge pub nearby. I was surprised to see one of our own on the taps: DOT Brew's Coffee Malt. This is a dark barrel-aged coffee beer of 7.2% ABV. The aroma is sour and funky -- a little sweaty with it. The flavours opens on that funk before turning to a more pleasant sweet coffee liqueur. It's a nice twist. Without the coffee I think this might have come out harshly astringent so I'm glad it's there. Fans of extreme Brett funk might feel hard done by, however.

My companions stuck with Thornbridge beers. Flora is on the left, a kegged hazy IPA with quite an acrid bitterness -- orange pith leading to aspirin. Tough going. The other one is a chocolate orange stout called Tapit which goes big on the chocolate in both aroma and flavour but showed very little sign of the orange. It's basic but decent.

The journey onwards to Belgium took us through Rotterdam where we dropped in briefly to Bokaal which had just opened for the afternoon. Two IPAs for the road: one Bad Kid by The Goat, a 6% ABV Simcoe and Citra job. It poured red, almost pink, in fact. A very resinous aroma accompanies that, leading on to more of the same in its flavour, turning almost astringent in its bitterness. Here it's joined by a massive hit of sugary crystal malt, resulting in something like a '90s American IPA on steroids. It's well made and tasted fresh so was enjoyable, but not a beer to order if you're in a hurry. It demands the drinker's time.

A more modern (ie paler) double IPA joins it: Hopstorm Chaser, a "7 day IPA", getting multiple dry-hop doses of Equinox, Idaho 7 and Cascade. This results in an absolutely amazing aroma: spritzy and juicy like a freshly peeled mandarin. Alas it fails to build on this. The flavour is much less impressive, mixing savoury caraway with orange oils and some dark chocolate. Redemption of a sort comes at the end in a thrilling bite of grapefruit rind. Despite significant alcohol heat -- it is 8.5% ABV, after all -- it's cleaner-tasting than most of this style, with a pleasingly full and chewy texture. While it doesn't live up to the promise of that stunning aroma, it's pretty decent stuff.

With this pair polished off at a leisurely pace it was time to catch the next Eurostar to Brussels.

Hague intentions

Christmas in England was followed swiftly by New Year in the Netherlands. On arrival, the first forage in my local Albert Heijn landed a new one from the never-not-funny Dutch brewery Hoop. They've co-opted Hope's seasonal deckchair guy for the label of Winter Warming Chocolate Porter. The appearances fitted the description: a thick texture, a deepest brown colour and a dark tan head. The aroma is rich dark chocolate, hinting at a big sweetness to come. It doesn't really, though. There's certainly lots of chocolate flavour but it's balanced by a burnt edge of heavy roast coffee. That tarry effect lasts long into the finish and is of a quality usually found in export stouts stronger than this 6% ABV. This is novelty-free winter warmth in a tidy little packet. Well played Hoop.

I also picked up the Winterbier from AB InBev's local footprint Hertog Jan. The first surprise was that it's golden rather than dark. It doesn't smell very wintery either -- intensely sweet, like honey liqueur or pink lollipops. Thankfully the flavour is rather less intense. If anything it's even a little thin, despite 8.8% ABV. It tastes of lightly floral candy with overtones of nougat and brown sugar. Think of it as an overclocked Belgian-style blonde, or a stripped-back tripel. It's fine, but not the warming winter job I was hoping for.

And I was never going to pass up a black IPA when I saw one of those in the supermarket. Step up Maria Magdalena from Jopen. It's definitely black, and the ABV is a middle-of-the-road 6%. Bright and fresh lemon sherbet sings in the aroma, turning bitterer in the flavour, with notes of tar and tobacco. That super-clean citrus zest returns in the finish. This is a beautifully done example of the style; not overdoing the roast, the bitterness, or the hop flavours but making excellent use of all three sides, holding them in balance. I could merrily quaff this by the pint, and at under €2 a bottle it's an absolute steal.

At the slightly posher Plus supermarket I picked up Tre Fontane Tripel, the first to come my way from Italy's only Trappist brewery. 8.5% ABV and a dark orange colour, it leans heavily on the spices, bringing a kind of aftershave effect. There's lots of yeast character, though dull and savoury rather than the bright and sparky Belgian sort. Thankfully there's enough rounded mellow warmth for this not to matter. Afterwards comes a resinous green herbal quality, all rosemary, wintergreen and eucalyptus. A more typically Belgian note of dark fruit finishes it off. This is a slow drinker, heavy and plodding, but with much to enjoy along the way. I'd still prefer a Westmalle, though.

A haul from the expensive off licence with the ironic name, Free Beer, brings this next lot. First is a Danish sour IPA from Alefarm Brewing called Nogenlunde Afklaret Og Fuldt Ud Til Stede ("Somewhat Clarified And Fully Out Of Place" wut?) It's a translucent orange colour without much head and is a big 6.2% ABV. That's excessive for what it is: a cleansing and refreshing tart ale, the base alkaline soda sweetened up with cherry and forest fruit cordial notes. A little more hop flavour would have improved it, but what's there is decent, if unexciting.

Beside it, Mathom, a toffee praline stout from Spanish brewer The Flying Inn. It's pretty much spot on for the pastry stout style: just enough roast and bitterness to balance it, but mostly all about those sweet chocolate and liqueur flavours. There's a definite nuttiness in there too. 7% ABV is light for this sort of thing, and that's no harm. The beer drinking experience probably shouldn't include feelings of relief when the product isn't horribly overwrought, but that's where we are with this.

Next out was Live Transmission, a milkshake IPA from Canadian brewery Flying Monkeys. I expected this would be hazy but instead it's a bright golden shade. Turns out the lees had settled to the bottom of the can. They murked-up my glass on the second pour, though this didn't change the taste. The ingredients list is substantial: orange peel, grapefruit and something called a "soft coconut white tea", plus Citra, Idaho 7 and Mosaic hops. Anyway, out of all that the coconut dominates, leaving it smelling like a girly shampoo. This continues in the flavour, although here there's just enough of a bitter snap to complement the coconut sweetness, meaning it tastes more like a dark Bounty bar than a milk one. The citrus peel lands on the lips at the end, intensely sweet and slightly sticky, like a balm. This isn't bad if you don't mind sweet and have no objection to coconut. The idea of something with so little hop character being badged as an IPA is daft, though.

And then the attractively named Poesiat & Kater Muuke, endeared to me from the shelf with a description of "must wine pale ale". I don't know, must it? It's a clear and lagery gold with a thin head. It's heavily fizzy, with a soft lemon vitamin-tablet bitterness, shading towards soluble aspirin. Where's the grape? Well... there's the vaguely fruit perfume effect of a Muscat, some Champagne-ish toast, but no real grape. A corky funk finishes it off in a way that's certainly wine-like, but not terribly enjoyable. This hits its beats in a rudimentary, lacklustre way. It's fine, but does nothing interesting.

The city's other high end offie is Dorst, where I got Van Haver Tot Gort, a 10% ABV imperial stout from Hooglander Bier. The Dutch have nailed this style, presumably under pressure from the world-class De Molen. This example is spot-on as usual: a big treacle body purveying an assertive liquorice bitterness. For complexity there's a lavender and rosewater bathroom-cabinet seam. I don't know the brewery but I'll keep an eye out for them. Hopefully this is not a one-off.

Right on cue, this was followed by Senning & Sensatie, a De Molen imperial stout. This one has special effects from smoked malt, chilli and cocoa. That has weakened it a bit as it's a sober 9.8% ABV. It achieves a lot with what it has, however, and I was surprised by the bite of iodine from the peated malt at the outset. A chocolate sweetness spreads across the palate after that, the chilli relegated to the very finish where it adds a polite complexity I would have liked more of. Still, this doles out the flavours in fair proportion and an orderly fashion.

Of course, it wasn't all sitting in drinking takeaway beers. Next up: to the pub!

Shropshire, lads

Christmas took me to rural Shropshire once again. The local pub is under new ownership but retains its three beer engines, one of them tied to the thoroughly decent Hobsons Twisted Spire.

The first guest beer was a new stout from a different nearby brewery, Hop & Stagger. Black Forest Stout they called it, and yes it contains cherries. In fact, I suspect that this is nothing more complicated than a basic chocolate-forward session stout into which a bucket of cherry concentrate has been dumped: it has that unsubtle syrupy taste. A flinty dark-roast dryness saves it from turning sticky, and while the two elements do blend better as it warms up, this is still a one-pint beer and no more.

Moving on, then, to Joules Old No. 6, badged as a "winter warmer" though only 4.8% ABV. It belies this with a big and rich flavour, beginning on a thick layer of chewy caramel which is then overlaid with red liquorice and throat-sweet herbs. That makes for something very sweet and very bitter at the same time, with a Victorian medicine vibe which I'm sure is exactly what they were going for. I don't think I've tasted anything much like this, yet it does fit what one might expect an old-fashioned English winter ale to be. Again, a session would be tough, but that's what the Twisted Spire tap is for.

The only other pub I visited was a very quick half at the Wetherspoon in Shrewsbury. They had Black Ice by Titanic Brewery on, and it's against my religion to pass up a black IPA when I see one. This one arrived with an off-white head, the body black but showing red around the edges. The flavour offers a fascinating mix of flowers and fruit: spicy jasmine first, followed by soft and sweet cherry and raspberry. It's still bitter enough to be properly invigorating and there's a stout-like tarry rasp which helps keep it from tasting jammy. All this is done at just 4.1% ABV too. Great work, and I hope they keep brewing it, fashion be damned.

To the bottles, then, and Hobsons has refreshed its branding, the trademark bowler hat now looking 45% more jaunty. I don't know if Shropstar pale ale is new but it was my first time trying it. This is a perfectly clear pale gold and 4% ABV. A tall head forms so I was expecting lots of fizz on the palate but it's actually quite smooth. A pinch of lemon rind suggested American hops to me, though a glance at the label tells me Hüll Melon and Mandarina Bavaria are actually responsible. An initial bitter kick leads on to bittersweet citrus, and then a fast fade-out. They've badged this as a Christmas beer, and it was refreshing after too much cheese and Other People's Unreasonably Hot Central Heating, but I think it would work better in the summer -- there's enough fruity fun in it for that.

The sister brought me a selection from Lincolnshire brewery Hopshackle. I began with the lightest of them: a golden ale called Jaramillo. There'll be Amarillo hops in this, thought I, but no: it's Citra and Mosaic. It has a rough and raw homebrew quality, manifesting as a clean gunpowder spice. The hop fruit is bright behind it, all juicy mango and tangy pomegranate. While this lacks polish, it is tasty in an amateurish sort of way. They got away with the roughness here, but I was apprehensive facing into the rest of the selection.

Hopnosis got busy with the fizzy from the get go. This is a golden ale, 5.2% ABV, and hopped with Citra and Mosaic again. Oh and hey: here's the Amarillo. There's a very pleasant sweet honey taste, plus a touch of apricot, and accompanying stickiness. I can see the beer it was meant to be; the beer it probably is on cask, but bottled, once again, there's that flinty spice of residual yeast: nice but interfering with the core flavour. I can't help thinking that even if this bottle is OK, the brewery doesn't have proper control over what's getting out there. Is that unfair?

Moving on, I poured the Humopulus carefully, to give myself a clear glassful. It's still a little hazy through the pale yellow colour, without much of an effort at head. The label boasts yet more Citra though the flavour is quite muted. There a vague lime-zest bitterness, but the sharp and flinty yeast is more prominent. It's been busy too, I'd say: the texture is thin, even for 4.3% ABV, suggesting high attenuation. There's a background sourness but I don't know whether to pin that on the fermentation or the hops. With every sip I found myself thinking how much better Citra-forward British beers like Jarl and Oakham Citra are. This isn't in the same league.

Last up from Hopshackle is Fire Belly Export, described on the label as a "Double Imperial IPA" which is a yer-da style if ever I saw one. It is 7% ABV. There's lots of sweet caramel, and a big malt warmth. This is accompanied, rather than balanced, by tropical C-hops, plus a herbal, peppery effect. Again, though, heavy-handed attenuation has thinned it, dried it and given it too much fizz. It's better than the others despite this: the high gravity fights back against the officious yeast and there's enough mellowness left behind, and sufficient body to provide a base for the hops. There's a lack of finesse, sure, but this is on the good side of the homebrew-tasting spectrum.

The next set was three from Sherbourne Ales in Bournemouth, courtesy of my niece who lives locally. First out is the bottled bitter Headlander. I didn't think there was much chance of this pouring clear, what with all the dregs clinging to the inside of the bottle, and so it proved: a hazy copper red glassful. The aroma is wholesome brown bread with a very English veg-and-metal hop tang. The two sides should blend together in the flavour but they drift further apart: a sugary-tea sweetness and quite a harsh, raw bitterness with no hop flavour nuance. It's hard work, but I was used to the clashing flavours by the half-way point and finding it quite refreshing, as a bitter ought to be. Approach with caution rather than avoid, I would say.

Sunbather red ale is not very different, in appearance and in ABV, at 4.2%. The aroma is quite understated, just a vague jam and marzipan. Flavourwise it's definitely smoother than the previous: a well-integrated cocktail of warm caramel and dark berries, with a touch of coffee-roast complexity. This is balanced by that classic English hop bitterness but this time toned down, and with some earthy veg notes in with the acidity. It fits the brown bitter category more than that of red ale, I think, though one could class it as a good example of either. Solidly traditional, and enjoyably so. The sort of English beer I never hear about on the Internet.

The strongest one to finish on: the 4.5% ABV Grockles blonde ale. This came out a bright and burnished gold, with hardly any haze at all. A honey aroma leads on to a rye and caraway savoury bitterness. It tips a little into the gastric, vomity side of the spectrum, but not excessively so, and there's enough residual honey to pull the flavour back. Again, this suits the broad bitter genre better than the style it's badged as; this time the pale, dry, sharp northern bitter, typified by these days Landlord and Marble's Manchester Bitter. The brewery has decided it's a summer beer, and presumably intends it as a lager substitute. It has far too much character for that, however. You'd be disappointed if you were expecting Stella. I wasn't disappointed, though.

A random selection from the slim pickings in a local Sainsburys: Gladeye, from Drygate. It gives us fair warning of what to expect by calling itself a "retro IPA". Copper colour: check; big crystal malt toffee: check; intense grapefruit bitterness: check and check. It really does remind me of old-school IPAs like Porterhouse Hop Head and the original Sierra Nevada IPA. A lighter hand on the crystal would have been appreciated: it's thicker and sweeter than it needs to be. I like the old-fashioned, mouth-watering, citrus poke, though. It delivers on its promise, although it's weird thinking of this sort of thing as a novelty.

The Christmas Day nightcap was Adnams Both Barrels, a barrel-aged version of their Broadside IPA, with added cherries. After six whole years in bourbon casks, it doesn't look or taste anything like Broadside, being a dark brown colour and showing lots and lots of oak flavour. Wild yeast has been busy too, giving an overall impression of a Flanders red: that tart cherry and fancy Italian vinegar effect. Though 9% ABV there's no heat and quite a thin body. Swirling it on the palate, bourbon vanilla makes an appearance, and there's burnt fruitcake and brown breadcrust in the mix as well. They don't badge it explicitly as sour, but I think they should. Fascinating stuff, both as a highly involved IPA experiment, and as a beer in its own right.

Familial duties duly conducted, it was off to the Netherlands for New Year...

Das Wochenende

It's a while since I had any And Union beers on here. They haven't gone away, though, and now that their Irish distributor Noreast is dominating the shelves in my local supermarket they're more in my eyeline than ever.

So here is Friday, the IPA. €2.50 is not a bad price for a 6%-er. It did look a bit worrying on pouring: a muddy brown ochre colour. The aroma is vaguely citric: marmalade spread thinly on a slice of toast on the opposite side of the room. The texture is full but the carbonation lower than I'd like. This isn't going well so far.

The flavour, however, is cleaner than I expected. A tangy lemon-and-lime is in charge, backed by very sweet toffee malt. The result is quite candy-store or fizzy pop: something with a sugary base given a citric infusion. Boiled sweet, sherbet lemons, 7-Up, that sort of thing.

I'm guessing the older style of American IPA is what they have in mind, big on crystal malt and Cascade. It doesn't really do it for me, though. German IPAs are usually balanced and integrated much better than this.