Wide Street has started going all arty with its cans. I don't know if I approve. I liked the earlier, uniform approach -- it showed a brewery that was about the beer. But I'm not here to review packaging. Funky Friday is described in no more in-depth terms than "wild pale ale". I thought "wild" referred to the yeast strains involved, but the beer proved tempestuous too, soaking the table and floor upon opening. It's a hazy yellow shade inside, much calmer once poured. The aroma is a crisp and spritzy mix of lemon sherbet and pickled onion. That's weirder than the actual flavour which turned out clean and only lightly funky. The lemon is still there, complementing the barnyard element beautifully. A woody spice calls young lambic to mind. From the Belgian flavour lexicon there's melon, lychee, apple, peppercorns and clove. It's also cool-fermented, giving it an even smoothness, with an undemanding finish. This is relaxing and sessionable while also complex enough to be interesting. After-work pints of this would be sublime, but a can offered the next best thing.
Monksland is a stout made with Belgian yeast and is over a euro cheaper. I don't know how beer pricing works. The can didn't gush either, making it even better value. It smells like a proper, unfancy stout, going big on roast. Same on tasting: dry and really quite ashen -- not unpleasant, but requiring some getting used to. The Belgian side is there too: fruity esters, and prunes in particular, like you might find in a bruin or dubbel. It's an interesting interplay, with each mouthful starting full and luscious before drying rapidly, becoming cigarette smoke by the end. It's an unsettling experience, not a bad one, but again something to which one needs to adjust. On balance this was harder work than I was after. You get your Belgian and your stout, but that burnt aspect wasn't part of the deal.
"Brewed in a traditional Berliner Weisse style" it says on the final can, and Wide Street is one of the few breweries I would trust for that to be accurate. Seems a bit odd, then, that they've made it a Peach Berliner. Peaches aren't exactly traditional, are they? Anyway, it's 4.6% ABV and a pale hazy yellow in the glass, with a few unsettling specks floating on the surface. The Brett side is apparent from the get-go: a farmyardy funk pervades it. That's overshadowed somewhat by a vinegar tang, one which matches the thin mouthfeel. It burns a little. And peaches? There are no peaches. It's good that there's no silly sugary sweetness, but I expected some quantity of fruit. Overall, this doesn't quite work for me. I appreciate the authenticity, but there's a reason most breweries don't make them like this. While far from actively unpleasant, the vinegar thing left me wincing a little with each sip.
This brewery is still a bit of a coin-toss for me. When they get things right it's a sublime experience, but that's not a guarantee. I'm happy to take my chances.
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