Hope for some of us

The Hope Limited Edition series dropped another brace of cans recently, the first being No. 19: American Pale Ale. The USP here is that it's a collaboration with BrewDog's Dublin brewery, which as far as I know never got round to releasing any beer of its own in the few short months it traded.

Blue can, 5.7% ABV, misty yellow pour. Is this Punk? The aroma is a mix of tropical fruit and dank -- this IS Punk --- but the flavour is drier and more mineral-like. There's no sign of that initial fruitiness, replaced by chalk and grass; bitter to the core. It's a little unbalanced that way, rough and enamel-stripping, with a hard, Germanic, herbal bite on the end. Chinook, Citra and Centennial says the label: no Cascade, but this shows an earthiness I associate with that hop. I'm still thinking of Punk, but more the 2007 6% ABV Jaipur clone than the current iteration. Aaanyway, comparisons aside, this is a hard and pointy IPA of the sort nobody makes any more. Maybe you hanker after this kind of thing; I found it quite tough going now as much as I did a decade ago.

Meanwhile, as a two-finger salute to the anal-retentives out there, 19 in the sequence is followed by No. 1516: Unfiltered Lager. It's a nod to the Reinheitsgebot, of course, and the second unfiltered lager in the series, following no. 2. While that one was a burst of summer sunshine, this is darker and more serious. It looks awful, a muddy orange with little head. The carbonation is low, as is the aroma; only a medium-sweet syrup smell. That all gels together better on tasting when the hops kick in. It's still a bit flat and there's a burnt sugar aftertaste, but before that a buzz of spicy noble hops, bringing white pepper and rocket special effects. It's a kellerbier, then. Fresh, and a little unrefined, but with a raw and rustic charm. I could imagine drinking this in a German basement brewpub and that's something I could really use about now.

Finally, Hope's seasonal beer guy is back for Summer 2020, staying socially distanced on the beach. "An old-school American pale ale" says the can, and also "4.9% ABV", which doesn't sound like any American IPA I remember. It's also hazy and yellow. Lads, if you mean "bitter", just say "bitter". Chinook, Citra and Centennial are your hosts once again, this time bringing you a surprising amount of dank resins, building in intensity to a full-on grass and wax finish. OK now I get the "old-school" bit: there's earthy pine in a very Sierra Nevada way, and an oily jaffa-skin bite too. That said, the modern haze brings a softer side, with tropical mango, smoothie vanilla and maybe even a brush of garlic. Far from a relaxing summer sessioner, it's a beer I ended up arguing with myself over. My conclusion is that it's a modern hazy pale ale with the bitterness ramped up and as such doesn't really work. It ends up jarring and awkward. Where American-style IPA is concerned you need to pick a side: clear, amber and grapefruity or the soft yellow tropical dessert. There is no in-between.

That blip aside, I'm pleased to see special editions with no silly twists or weird ingredients. Hope might present as quirky and playful but I'm very glad that there's reliable brewing talent at the tiller, steering a course away from daft recipes. For now.