Earth works

A big thanks to Tom of Land & Labour for shipping me some hard-to-find bottles of his wares, buckshee.

I opened with Cuvée L&L, a blend of two- and three-year-old... whatever terms you're allowed to use for lambic-ish beer brewed and fermented in Galway. It's 5.5% ABV and a deep orange. From the first sip it is sharp -- almost harshly acidic and sour. What saves it is a citrus sweetness in the middle: Seville orange and lime cordial. That takes the edge off before fading itself, leaving room for a dry mineral finish. By the second glass I had adapted to the intense initial sourness and was really enjoying it. It's missing the oaky spice of real gueuze, but otherwise hits the style points for a young and slightly fruity version bang on. The refreshment quotient is very high, and the first bottle wasn't long disappearing.

On to the second: Screaming Trees. This was originally created for the ABV Festival in 2017, in collaboration with White Frontier brewery in Switzerland. It's brewed with juniper needles and fermented with kveik for a full-on Nordic effect. A bit of back and forth with the brewer determined that the bottle I had been given was off -- corky, musty, and just not right. A few months later a replacement was sent, and that's what I'm reviewing here.

This is altogether smoother than the Cuvée, feeling more rounded and matured, even though it's slightly weaker in strength. There's a brisk fizz and a certain level of bricky nitre saltpetre spicing. I had to look for the juniper, and very much doubt I would have been able to identify it, but there's something herbal going on, a mint-sauce piquancy with a hint of eucalyptus. Overall it's quite an understated affair. It delivers the goods for a wild-fermented barrel-aged beer in the broad Payottenland style, but only a small amount of them. The plus side is that it's relaxing rather than busy, with the juniper complexity a modest added bonus. The beer is still a rarity, but I would be very happy to see it, or something like it, become an everyday, off-the-shelf session sort of sour ale.

The final part of the official trilogy is Lúnaberry, a foeder-fermented blueberry ale. To cut to the chase, it's a start to finish class act. The colour is gorgeous: a limpid scarlet, almost completely clear on the first pour from the large bottle. The aroma is a hyperloop trip to Brussels: a woody fruity funk exactly like you'd get from a high-end kriek or similar. My wife nodded vigorously when I opined that the glass in her hand smelled like being in the tasting room at Cantillon. It doesn't quite achieve that level of wild-fermentation complexity on the flavour, however. This is a clean sort of sourness, not severe at this early stage in its life, and with only a hint of Brettanomyces horseyness. The pay-off is more fruit than you'd get from a mature lambic. There's a realness to the blueberry side, the sort of tart sweetness you get when you bite down on a fresh ripe berry. It's gorgeous. While I'm intrigued as to what would happen when this ages, I'm fully prepared to believe it works best fresh. If you can get hold of any, that is. I feel very privileged to have received this bottle.

Bundled in with the second Screaming Trees was an unmarked bottle of Spon 2 Year Blend. This is where Land & Labour really gets into gear, being a take on geuze, Galway style. Like lambic it's spontaneously fermented, barrel-aged and blended, just like proper geuze. Beer like this takes serious skill to do as well as the Belgian establishments, but at the same time you have to start somewhere.

This one has an unsubtle spicy aroma, heavy on the saltpetre and sandalwood, hinting at quite an extreme sourness to come. But while yes, there's a big ol' smack of acidity from the first sip, it's not extreme or vinegary. There's a fun sherbet or pop-rocks tingle on the tongue, with notes of allspice and incense. I liked how light and spritzy the texture is: big-bodied beers in this style don't suit me, and while this is close to 6% ABV it's no chore to get through. Further mellowing would doubtless improve it, though I'd be perfectly happy if the production line kept rolling with a two-year-old product.

I'm sure I've said before that Land & Labour is the most promising beer-production operation on the island at the moment. Everything is done properly and nothing is rushed, and you can taste the benefit of that in every bottle (wonky ones excepted). The only catch is availability. I would love to see these as commodity beers available by the caseload, but I don't know if that's the plan.

Waiting for Trouble

Last year Trouble released a pair of twin pale ales called Didi and Gogo. They've followed this up now with something similar but different.

The lighter of the pair is Lucky, a 4.4% ABV pale ale with Citra, Talus and Simcoe, canned the day before I purchased and drank it. It's a pithy sensation, the aroma and foretaste going big on grapefruit. But that's not the whole picture. A bright and happy peach and apricot buzz spreads quickly across the palate adding much needed balance. Gentle vanilla cream adds subtly to the sweet side. The texture is full and fluffy, with a touch of grittiness, but nothing too upsetting. That citrus pith we came in on sees us out as well, though doesn't hang around long. I suspect this benefits a lot from the freshness, but it's also a sound flavour combination and will still be enjoyable if there's any left in the months to come.

Its companion piece is Pozzo at 6.6% ABV. Released at the same time, this had had an extra week languishing in the can. It seems to have been time well spent, however, as this is altogether clearer than the previous. Here Talus and Simcoe are joined by Amarillo instead of Citra, and I guess that explains why the flavour is softer and mellower. It's no less fruity, and I get juicy watermelon in particular, with a little strawberry and red cherry. Although it's quite dense, it's not sickly due to the dry and husky finish which substitutes for bitterness. This is another summery one, maybe lacking the balance of Lucky but still fine drinking.

Assuming the naming convention continues, the fifth in this series will likely be called Godot. Trouble has not yet indicated when it will arrive.

And the Oskar goes to

The Colorado veteran Oskar Blues makes a welcome return to the blog; welcome in particular when it comes bearing lagers.

Mama's Little Yella Pils has been part of the range since forever but appears only sporadically over here. I grabbed it when I saw it. It's a spot-on 4.7% ABV and a lovely rich golden colour, more amber than yella and looking every inch the Czech classic it's modelled after. I get a mild grassy Saaz aroma, and there's merely a lacing of this in the flavour. Otherwise it's malt-driven: rich and biscuity with elements of honey and golden syrup. That sweetness is the only thing I can ding this for. While I loved the fullness of it all, I was expecting more of a pils crispness, and it doesn't really deliver on that promise. I'm kvetching about what is a perfectly fine lager, though, and "Mama's Little Amber Helles" isn't as catchy a name.

Edit: I hadn't realised I'd had this before, back in 2014. These things happen.

The yin to its yang today is Slow Chill Dunkel. I ran my eye over the Helles in the same series a while back, and quite liked it, but again quibbled over stylistic accuracy. The Dunkel looks the part: cola-brown though looking a bit twee in that most unBavarian half-pint tankard. There's an interesting peppery quality, or maybe cinnamon, in the aroma, with a hint of more typical liquorice. The texture is smooth and heavy, impressively so for the modest 5.5% ABV. All the right notes are hit by the flavour: caramel, hazelnuts, cocoa, and a fun lemonade citrus side which balances it beautifully without throwing it off. The subtlety thrilled me. American brewers have a tendency to go overboard on European styles, but this example has clearly been hewn from a genuine respect and love for proper dunkel. Three cans would fill a Maßkrug nicely.

I like when the package size is the worst criticism I can level at an American beer. Both of these are excellent illustrations of Oskar Blues's no-nonsense brewing acumen.

Berries and chillis and whatnot

Silly stouts from parts north is today's theme, and Boundary has a bunch of them. I have picked two representative examples.

I Heard You've Been Looking For Me is the lighter of the pair, 8% ABV and describing itself as an "imperial cookie stout with blueberry and vanilla". I don't see where the cookie fits into this. There's no cookie in the ingredients and there isn't the thick cakey sweetness I would expect from that. They've gone heavy on the blueberry which gives the head a purplish tone and adds a strong tartness to the taste, though only a small pinch of blueberry flavour. This contrasts hard with the milk-chocolate middle and it doesn't work all that well for me. If a beer is presenting as big and sweet, it ought to be big and sweet. Big and sweet and sour isn't on.

Next, coffee, vanilla, chipotle and coconut are the additions to A Practical Guide To, a 10%-er. This one is thick and smooth and sweet, so the vanilla is doing its job this time. The coffee is mostly to be found in the aroma, while the chilli lands late, bringing a helpful drying-out, though not much spice. I can't say I detected much coconut either. But really, despite the lengthy list of add-ons, it's a beer to take as a whole rather than pull apart. There's a sumptuous richness, with a honeycomb effect not too distant from those top-dollar Scandi pastry stouts, but not as cloyingly sweet. Describing it as balanced might be a step too far, but it's less daft than most of this sort and much more palatable than the previous. I'll take it.

A reminder, then, of why I don't buy a lot of this type of beer. Clearly a great deal of effort goes into them, and I'm sure there are still customers capable of being wowed simply by a long list of adjunct flavourings. To me, it's mostly unnecessary, and I think both of these would have been better beers without them.

Wish you were there

Sure we would all love to be in New Zealand about now. Rascals has done their bit to bring The Land of the Long White Cloud to us instead, with this themed pair. Both are named after hop blends available from New Zealand growers.

Betty's is described as a "dry-hopped New Zealand lager". I had never encountered this blend before, but the can promises gooseberry and lime, so it sounds authentic. The visuals are fairly spot on: a polished golden colour and perfectly clear, though the head faded out a little too quickly for it to pass as something central European. The aroma is pure summer sunshine: roses and apricots and distant cut grass. When the hops are the headline it must be tempting to pile them in wholesale, but that's not the case here. Clean pilsner crispness is the opening feature, and the finishing flourish. In the middle you get nothing as intense as lime, but I'll grant them the gooseberries. The floral and stonefruit aspects from the aroma hang around too, with a meadowy perfume effect, and a pinch of ripe and juicy peach. Only after that crisp finish is there a ghost of citric bitterness in its aftertaste. It's a very well-made lager and enjoyable, even if it's quieter than the busy multicoloured can art implies.

The companion piece is an IPA called Bruce's, and this blend I have met before, though couldn't describe it beyond "broadly New Zealandy". The brewery says it's hazy, though it's only just, definitely translucent rather than opaque. There's a lot of herbal oily funk in the aroma: eucalyptus, sage and rosemary. I thought it would taste bitter but it's a mix of fruity candy in the flavour, with lemon chews, zingy sherbet and orange icepops. A real fast-track to childhood. The texture is quite big and a little fuzzy, which accentuates the sweetness. The downside there is that it lacks bittering balance. It's not overdone, however, so that's not a problem. The end result is a decent, middle-of-the-road IPA, though one which doesn't hit hard enough for being 6.2% ABV. I'm still not sure I get what Bruce's characteristics are. While pleasant, this doesn't taste especially New Zealand-style to me.

Off the back of these, Betty's is the hop combination I'm interested in learning more about. It strikes me that there's a lot of potential there. And more lagers from Rascals as well, of course. Rain Czech must be due a comeback some time soon...

Ale Satan

Duvel Tripel Hop was a big deal when it first arrived. It was one of the first signifiers that American beer trends were making themselves felt worldwide, even in traditional Belgian brewing. Batch one, way back in 2007, sold out instantly. It came back annually, then, in a limited edition 75cl prestige bottle, featuring a sequence of guest hops. My only previous encounter was in 2013, when Sorachi Ace was featuring. Having gone from a once-off, to an annual release, Duvel Tripel Hop is now part of the core range, presented in the standard 33cl Duvel bottle. The brewery seems to have settled on Citra and Cashmere as the signature hop varieties, for now.

The ABV of Duvel Tripel Hop Citra is the same as all the earlier versions: a sizeable 9.5%. It's a while since I've had regular Duvel, but this does seem a little hotter and heavier. The Citra is plentiful, with a pine floor-cleaner quality to the aroma and a generous squeeze of lemon juice in the flavour. That sits next to the more traditional clean Belgian spice, but I don't know that it adds anything positive to it. Trying to look at it in a joined-up way, it's fine. You get the value from the American novelty hop, while also being able to enjoy a strong Belgian golden ale. I do think, however, that both sides work better separately -- the hops on a clean IPA base, and the golden ale letting decades of tradition do the heavy lifting. 

That left me feeling sceptical when approaching Duvel Tripel Hop Cashmere. How could this have the beatings of almighty Citra? It's 9.5% again, and the usual hazy gold. The first point of difference is in the aroma: it doesn't smell like Duvel at all. Instead there's a luscious stonefruit character in both aroma and flavour: big peach and lychee energy, with a little white-tea tannic dryness. The alcohol, and the Belgian spice, await their turn, arriving only when the fruit has faded. I liked this a lot. There's a certain convergence with the tripel style -- it tastes like one of those much more than the IPA it purports to be -- but it retains Duvel's hallmark dryness in the finish. The Cashmere is much more complementary to the base than the loud and jangly Citra above.

I should be happy, fourteen years after Duvel first brought the sides together, that Belgian ale hasn't succumbed to the IPA trend and it remains a novelty. Would that the same were true for US-style IPAs and haze.

The latest brand extension finishes this post on a lighter note. Duvel 6.66 gets its name from the ABV: almost two points lower than regular Duvel and one below the green-badge one intended for draught consumption. It doesn't look as impressive: wan and hazy, with a greenish tint. The aroma is quite authentic, though: clove spice, honey and orange peel. The flavour profile fits Duvel as well, broadly. It's pleasant and very Belgiany. The alcohol burn is of course reduced, though it doesn't taste thin or vapid. And it's sweeter. The label mentions orange zest but doesn't say if that's a literal ingredient. I would believe it though. It's good fun, and achieves what it sets out to do, bringing four-fifths of the Duvel experience at four-fifths of the strength. Nice.

The usual caveats apply that I'm starved of trips to Belgium so valuing its beer extra highly at the moment. The Cashmere Triple Hop is especially worth your while, though. Get it while it's fresh.

Familiar fruit

I use "nectarine" quite a bit in tasting notes, but I can't remember the last time I actually ate one. Or even saw one. I'm pretty sure they're real, though. And now Sierra Nevada has put some in a beer: Wanderland. The description is simply "nectarine ale", and it's a clear innocent yellow colour. But this being 'Murica, the strength is amped up to an unreasonable 7.5% ABV. Do nectarines work as good as hops do in strong pale beer?

Well no, obviously. But this isn't the syrup monster I pretty much expected it to be. The aroma is inoffensive: an estery banana kick with just a hint of stone fruit in the background. Lurking. But the flavour is clean! It's patently strong, even a little hot, but it's a clean burn, a lot like a Belgian golden ale. The fruit adds a perfume to the finish; slightly artificial, like candy chews. Does it taste of nectarine? Not really. I use that word when something is soft and juicy, whereas this is hard, and even a little dry.

I'm not sure what to make of it. It's not a silly fruit beer, but nor is it a serious strong ale. I appreciated how understated the added favouring was, though think that would work better in a lighter, fluffier wheat beer or the like. At least it's not another IPA. Well played on that, SN.

Which brings us to the next one with a sigh. Sierra Nevada are really stretching thin the Hazy Little Thing brand extensions. The newest is a west-coast-style imperial IPA, so "Thing" is the only applicable term of the three. With a crowbar and zero shame they've forced the name Big Little Thing onto it.

The aroma was disarming, however: I got a sweet mix of apricot, sherbet and candied grapefruit peel, with the added promise of a warming malty hug. The flavour is big, but surprisingly balanced, starting on a sweet floral lavender perfume, backed by lemon drizzle cake and fruit gums. And then there's a punchy, pure west-coast grapefruit bitterness keeping it all in check, fading on a serious oily herbal note: eucalyptus and rosemary. Even for a 9%-er it packs a hell of a lot in, and is fiercely good value at €3 a can. The only feature it has in common with Hazy Little Thing is that it's absolutely delicious, but that's fine by me.

Non-fungible tinny

I'm a longtime fan of Wild Beer's Millionaire salted caramel stout, so when a brand extension passed my way I grabbed it. That's how brand extensions are meant to work. Trillionaire isn't merely an extra-strength version, however. This imperial stout is brewed with apricots and spices, so the experience is necessarily going to be different.

It certainly looks like a 10.3% ABV stout, and more. It pours thickly and the head is almost as dark as the very very dark body. Burning oil and rotting fruit gives it a post-apocalyptic aroma. This would be no smooth ride. The texture is as dense as it looked, to the point of feeling like drinking chocolate sauce rather than beer: syrupy, slick, and almost without fizz. The flavour proved gentler than expected. What I'm guessing is the advertised apricot comes across as black cherry to me: a slightly tart sort of sweetness. The spices feel tacked on, being a cinnamon and ginger effect that sits separate from everything else and doesn't contribute anything positive. They bring the dryness to the finish, which I suppose is balance of a sort, but who drinks something like this in the hope of balance?

Overall, I liked it. It delivers the basics of a big imperial stout with no clangers dropped. As usual, though, I don't think the brewery's attempts to make it more interesting by adding extra ingredients have improved it any. The chocolate yes, and they got lucky with the fruit, but not those spices. I would still like to try the beer I imagined: the chocolate salted caramel imperial stout. In my imagination it's delicious.

This calls for a session

Forcing us all to buy three beers instead of one, DOT came out with a matching set of session IPAs recently. All three are 4.5% ABV and brewed with oats and rye, plus a varying combination of hops.

Hop lets us know from the outset what to expect, the hops in question being Hüll Melon and Vic Secret. It's a fuzzy orange colour and has a subtle aroma, with only a faint echo of Vic's anise-infused-kerosene bitterness. Sure enough it's sharp, and doesn't really have the body to carry its generous bittering quotient. Hüll Melon should be bringing some luscious white grape, in this drinker's opinion, but I don't get it. The initial bitterness is followed only by a different sort: resinous and spicy into the finish. It's not a bad beer but was a bit of a workout, and not something I'd consider entirely suited to session drinking. Let's hope for something mellower to follow.

The second one is called Drop, and uses what I thought was quite an orthodox combination of Centennial, Mosaic and Simcoe. I wasn't prepared for how intensely tropical it is. The aroma is like a sorbet: cold, a little sharp, but with an underlying succulent sweetness. This unfolds in the flavour into a very real passionfruit effect, flooding the palate before fading quickly, just like an actual piece of fruit would. A slightly harsh resinous bitterness forms the finish which here makes for an interesting contrast. Although the taste is a bit all over the place, it amounts to a pleasant experience, and certainly packs in a lot of complexity for the modest ABV.

Finally, of course, we Roll: this one with sweetie El Dorado, and The Bruce, a hop blend from New Zealand I've seen around but don't really know. It's a deeper amber than the previous, while the rye is quite apparent in the aroma -- that familiar grassy spice. There's a fair bit of fruit candy as well, though. Its mouthfeel is nicely light, fitting for a very juicy flavour: mostly fresh-squeezed orange, but with a touch of more exotic mango and mandarin. There's white pepper too, which I'm guessing is rye-derived, and dries things out considerably, becoming almost chalky by the end. That mix of juice and dryness makes for something very refreshing, exactly what's required of a beer like this.

I can't accuse DOT of turning out samey beers here, despite the labels. These each have their own character and demonstrate well how a beer's whole nature can be changed by tweaking the hops. As well as buying a session, you're buying an education.

The DOT train rolls faster than most in these parts, and no sooner had I dispatched these than seven new releases arrived more or less simultaneously. The range of styles and strengths is prodigious so I'll take them in something resembling order. That makes Early Bird the starting point, a 2.8% ABV micro IPA. This is hazy but not wan-looking as low-strength IPAs can be, being a full and rich orange colour. What is typical of the style is the mineral dryness, here given a fun twist of peppery spice. Both are seasonings on the main juicy satsuma character, and there's a little dankness in the aroma. Citra, Centennial and Vic Secret are working away in the background though I couldn't really pick out their individual features. Overall, it's a pleasantly complex and full-flavoured job, while still light and refreshing as befits the strength.

That's enough IPAs for the moment. The ABV scale takes a jump up to 6% next, and the style a jump sideways to saison. It's still dry-hopped, though, so we're not out of those particular woods yet. The varieties are from New Zealand, hence the name: Maui. It's a beautiful clear golden colour with a fine white head. The aroma goes heavy on white pepper and dry straw, so very much a classical saison nose, free of hop gimmickry. The hops are present on tasting though not in a gimmicky way. The ripe white grape of Nelson Sauvin is entirely complementary to the dry saison spice, rounded fruit offsetting the almost acrid dryness. The base beer is saison the way I like it, and the hops are a well-chosen subtle twist. I recommend it to saison purists and the farmhouse-curious alike.

As a St. Patrick's Day special, the latest barrel aged pale ale created exclusively for the Teeling Distillery is Green With Envy. White port and Calvados filled the barrels before the whiskey before the beer. Intriguing! It's 6.2% ABV and quite thick with it, sluggishly forming a head as it poured; a bright and opaque amber colour underneath. The foretaste is heavy and sweet, all orange cordial and Jolly Ranchers. There's a little hint of spirit behind this; that mild oaky tang you get from highly involved whiskey cocktails. That's about it as far as the complexity goes. It's fine, but nothing special. My preference lies with lighter and more barrel-y takes on this sort of thing.

And so up we go to the higher reaches of beer strength, our next stop being an 8.2% ABV double IPA called Rip. Juice is promised, though it's a surprisingly clear rose-gold colour in the glass. There's a heavy dankness in the aroma, which doesn't say juice to me, and I can't say there's much in the flavour either. It is sweet though, but it's a malt sweetness, of the toffee and golden syrup sort. This is tempered by a hard citric bitterness -- lots of pithy grapefruit and beeswax. The alcohol makes its presence known too: very warming, though thankfully never tipping over into hot or difficult. This is a pretty solid west-coaster, all told. Forget the juice and enjoy the zest.

The herald of darkness is The Barrel Aged Adventures of Extra Stout, which I'm guessing is a barrel-aged extra stout (it's actually several, blended). It's hefty for that, at 8.6% ABV, and is another thick pourer. There's a light roast in the aroma though not much else. The flavour is subtle too, no big booze or concentrated chocolate. There's a gentle caramel and coffee, with a little whiskey-ish honey and a bite of burnt dryness in the finish. Really, this beer is more about the texture than the taste: it's beautifully smooth, making for dangerously easy drinking. Not DOT's best work in this genre but an enjoyable start to this black set.

Earlier this year, DOT recalled a beer due to excessive carbonation. I began to wonder if they've over-compensated in the opposite direction when I poured 2021 Contains Nuts. This was very nearly totally flat, and while it's a style you wouldn't expect to be fizzy, it could have done with a little more condition. I don't recall how much the recipe has changed from the previous annual iterations, but what we have is a blend of imperial stout and red ale, both barrel aged, coming out at 9% ABV. I'm not sure I would have identified the praline extract unprompted. There's a general nutty, chocolatey, caramellish candy bar effect: boozy Snickers, in short. A dry finish helps balance the sweeter excesses. Like the previous one it's smooth and easy going, but I was hoping for a bit more distinctive novelty. Don't go all classy on me, Contains Nuts.

At the end of the road, a beer from which I was hoping for something properly crazy: BA Imperial Sherry Milk Stout. Where to start? Well, it's black, and fairly flat again. I thought it would be sweet but instead it's delightfully herbal, with a bitter aniseed and pine kick from the get go. The alcohol warmth is the next most prominent feature, quite subtle given the stonking 11% ABV. A floral element of lavender and rose petal builds as it goes, though it never quite conquers that bitterness. A residual waxiness is the beer's calling card. It's interesting how little sign there is of milk, sherry or whiskey here. It's its own thing, though: a hard sort of imperial stout for the grown-up palate. As such, I rather enjoyed it.

A further new one arrived a few weeks after I'd finished this lot. Barrel Aged Imperial Pale are the beery words DOT has appended to this one, exclusive to Redmond's of Ranelagh. Behind the label is a rather dense and murky pale ale of 6.9% ABV, utilising ex-Madeira casks in its formulation. It smells strongly of raisins: a concentrated grape effect, err, because that's what raisins are. The flavour is softer and fruitier, with white grape, lychee and apricot, plus a gentle oak spicing. It does get a little sweet after a while, adding a slightly sickly cordial vibe, so maybe a 330ml can would have been more appropriate than 440. It's like the flavour profile is designed to be fun and easy but the high gravity has put the brakes on that. Overall though, it's very good, and an excellent melding of fresh hops with barrel-aged complexity. The sort of thing DOT does best.

How does one even begin to sum up? DOT has something for everyone, I guess.

Hooray for pints

I do like these one-pint cans you get from Volfas Engelman, even if the beer inside isn't always stellar. It's nothing fancy today, just a handful of traditional European styles which I'd guess they have the knack of.

Bohemijos is a dark lager -- dark red rather than brown or black -- and is a mere 4.2% ABV. The aroma is interestingly fruity, with subtle notes of raspberry and strawberry. The texture is full and a little sticky. It feels wholesome and nutritious; creamy, not fizzy. The flavour still has that summer fruit element, but it's subservient to milk chocolate, burnt caramel and a mild herbal bitterness. It's not spectacular, but it is pleasant and different to anything currently being brewed locally. And even though it's Lithuanian it does a great job of channelling authentic Czech dark lager, albeit not the top-tier variety. Despite the weighty texture, it's perfectly gluggable, making a full imperial pint the correct serving quantity.

From Bohemia to Bavaria, and weissbier is the next style that ponas Engelman offers us an interpretation of. Maybe I should have rolled my can of Balta Pinta as a Bavarian waiter would, because it poured very clear, and quite wan and pale looking, despite the respectable 5% ABV. The busy fizz is bang on style, and I had hiccups to deal with before I could tackle the flavour. It, and the aroma, are very banana indeed, which I suppose is fair for the style. The sweet banana of those foam sweets is discernible, as is the more serious brown and mushy fruit: a whole spectrum of just banana. This is workmanlike, with no real complexity or flair, but no flaws either, unless you're a diehard supporter of Team Clove.

A black tinfoil lid on the next can: pure classy like. It would seem there's a whole range of "Galaxy" beers from Engelman -- this is Galaxy Šviesusis: the basic pale lager, 5% ABV and an absolute middle-of-the-road macro-gold. It's pretty sweet, with the full bready thickness of a Märzen and edges of caramel and brown sugar. Thankfully it's smooth and lightly carbonated, so not a chore to drink despite this. I get very little by way of hop balance, merely the faintest echo of dried grass. This is nearly excellent, but the sugary tang lets it down for me. I'm not averse to a clean yet chewy lager now and again, and this is certainly that, if just a tiny bit unbalanced.

The final one is Tradiciškas, a full 6% ABV. It's still a pale lager, though. A little bit of craft haze suggests that "traditional" may simply mean unfiltered. Fair enough. There's a wholesome cereal aspect to the aroma, with a marmalade old-world hop buzz too. Initially, I found no outward indications of all that alcohol: it's light and easy to knock back. It is once again quite sweet, though, with a fruit salad of apple, mandarin and grape. No crispness. As it warms, the fruit ripens and the booze emerges, and when it started to turn a bit solventy I emptied the glass. That gave me the rosy glow I was expecting from something with this level of poke. This is neither one thing nor the other, showing aspects of plain pale lager and super-strength loopy juice without being either. At least it was cheap.

All are pretty decent takes on the central European styles they've set out to clone, if a little unbalanced on the sweet side. That does mean you need to like the type before you approach them, and for that reason I'll single out Bohemijos as the best of the set. On my next buying round I'll be looking closely for tamsusis on the label.

The Silk Road

It's always nice when the breweries come up with blog post ideas for me, so shout-out to Carlow Brewing and Hope for simultaneously releasing nitrogenated stouts in a can. I'm not the world's biggest fan of nitrogenated stout in a can, but who could resist a little side-by-side tasting action?

Without prejudice, I opened the O'Hara's Irish Stout first. There was a satisfying hiss from the depressurising widget. Once settled it looked just like a short-filled pint, so they seem to have got the technicals right. Both the aroma and flavour are far from dead, with rich milk chocolate in the former and a tangy spinach bitterness in the latter. It finishes on an espresso roast too, so O'Hara's-Stout-as-we-know-it is done no disservice by the nitrogen here. It's a daftly long time since I last drank this beer, but this matches well with my memory of it. It's maybe not quite as smooth as draught nitro stout, though again that's something I also haven't had in a long time, and I enjoyed the very faint sparkle. This is very well made and should do well out in the mainstream.

The other has no such ambitions. Hope Nitro Stout is No. 23 in the Limited Edition series, so I guess won't be around for long. There's no widget but it still surged and swirled, albeit briefly. The head was nowhere near as stable, however, and was beginning to fade by the time I'd typed this much of the review. It has the edge on the O'Hara's regarding ABV, at 4.8%. The aroma -- again, hooray: there is one -- is untypical for Irish stout. It's herbal and savoury; interesting rather than unpleasant. That translates to a substantial bitterness on tasting. 44 IBUs, the can helpfully tells us, but I would believe more. The flavour is tobacco, kale, bitumen and very very dark chocolate. Unsurprisingly there's much more sparkle than the other one, so you don't really get your money's worth from the nitrogen. But it's a lovely old-fashioned bitter stout of the sort I like. Breweries don't make enough of these so I give it a completely free pass on the gas mechanics.

The similarities here are purely superficial, and the respective beers are intended to perform different tasks for different audiences. As such, it doesn't really make sense to compare them. The character, complexity and big ol' bitterness of the Hope one endeared it to me in particular. If it's the nitrokeg experience that you're after, however, O'Hara's your man.

Universal chicken

I have a tendency to rag on Omnipollo a bit here. The Swedish contract brewer is a byword for the candy-polluted pseudo-stouts that are a plague on contemporary beer. Yet I've generally found their less, shall we say, ambitious recipes to be well-made and enjoyable. That's what I was hoping from this set which appeared in Dublin, reasonably priced, a few months ago.

The first is called Sacho, described on the can as a "dry crush raspberry sour". I expected a dense opaque pink job but it's a clear shade of polished copper in the glass. Raspberry seeds form the aroma, and the flavour is unsurprisingly raspberry-dominated. It's not excessive, however; not jammy or sickly, as these can sometimes be. It's all rather restrained: fizzy raspberryade backed by a very gentle citric-acid tartness. It's only 4.5% ABV so I guess is designed to be refreshing, and mission accomplished there. I think a little more of a sour kick would give it some extra character. As is, it's plain and inoffensive fare. Could have been worse, I thought, and moved on.

A pale ale is next, called Ripples. I liked the trippy label design. It's 5.5% ABV and a hazy yellow, smelling intensely of oily roast garlic and fried onions. A thick texture and a vanilla-laden foretaste told me it was one of those. Urgh. Along with the custardy sweetness there's a harsh and gritty bite of dregs. Only the faintest hint of tropical fruit -- mango and pineapple -- makes it through the unpleasantness. This is an almost textbook-perfect example of how not to make pale ale for me. End-to-end hot yuck. People who like this sort of thing are just weird.

Clarity is restored, to an extent, with Grandin. This is another pale ale, though 7% ABV and fermented with Champagne yeast. It's a mildly hazy yellowish green colour with a mix of soft fruit and peppery spice in the aroma. Promising. The taste expands on this, the fruit side going all melony with a pinch of lime bitterness and a twist of white pepper. There's a perfumed floral side too, bringing jasmine and cedarwood. It's an interesting combination, and like the sour one above, it's done subtly, not blasting the palate with busy flavours. The finish is dry, of course, but other than that it doesn't have much of a Champagne quality. As a pale ale, or dare I say brut IPA, it's jolly decent.

The quartet ends on a modest 7.5% ABV double IPA called Double Noises. We're back to the haze, although it's a deeper and richer colour than Ripples and smells much less offensive, all peach and mango sunshine. The alcohol is extremely well hidden, making for some dangerously easy drinking. The flavour is a delicious rum-punch of pineapple, white grape, nectarine and guava. For all that tropicality on display, it retains a pleasing dryness, a palate-cleansing rasp on the finish. This is more what I was hoping for from the set: balanced, flavourful and utterly charming.

Only one total fail here, then. That's not a bad hit rate for the brand. I wonder what are the chances of a sane stout out of them?

Chasing strange

In order to begin weaning myself off a full month posting about nothing but Irish beer, I've picked a brewer from Catalonia which uses the facilities closer to home, in Ballyfermot. Oddity, that is, brews these four at Whiplash.

Joint-lightest of the set is Crumbling Crowd, describing itself as a brown stout, since it's a stout which uses brown malt. Oats and amber malt feature too, alongside roast malt, making for a superb richness from the get go. It smells of coffee cake and cream eclairs and really doubles down on that coffee in the flavour. There's almost a tang to the roast, and bucketloads of brown sugar to offset its bitterness. This is a very busy affair. I like the mellowness that brown malt normally brings, but here it's drowned out by hard roast, vegetal hops and a vanilla sweetness. I wanted to like it, I really did, but it's just too jarring, too loud, the flavours not integrated enough.

The IPA at the same strength is Faded Movies: a particularly pale example, yellow and misty, like a witbier. Does it count as single-hopped when it uses a proprietary hop blend? Probably not, but it's all the New Zealand mix The Bruce in here. I don't get much of an aroma, just a vague lemony effect. The flavour is also a bit muted: floral perfume, a drizzle of lemon essence and a little vanilla. Nothing really jumps out. It would be a pleasant and simple refresher, were it not so strong. As-is, I find it nice, but a little lacking in character.

Hit me with your best shot, Oddity.

Man Behind the Scene is not the man behind the filter. This double IPA is incredibly murky: an opaque eggy yellow body was infused with skirls of dreg from the middle-to-end of the pour, with some bigger congealed lumps wallowing around as well. No. This is no way to present a beer, regardless of what fashion dictates. The aroma is somewhere between concentrated tropical fruit and super-sweet cordial, with a touch of garlic and caraway. This did little to endear it to me. The flavour is at least fairly clean, with just a gentle dusting of the dry and chalky grit. There's a big and comforting warmth, tasting all of its 8% ABV and more. For all the compromises that have been made for them, the hops should be singing in here. But they're not. It's happily peachy, with a little mango and honeydew, finishing quite quickly on a pinch of sharp citrus. Really, though, the alcohol is its dominant feature. I'm sure it wasn't meant to be a malty warmer.

Our finisher was, though, I've no doubt. I don't think I've ever seen beer described as a "double oatmeal porter", but Astral Trip is, another 8%-er. It's a very dark velvety brown colour and smells of warm chocolate, hot coffee and sweet tiramisu. Instant wintery comfort. On tasting you have to be prepared for the booze, because that's what hits first, with a lot of coffee laced through, like Tia Maria or caffè corretto. A more subtle side unfolds after the first kick. Dark chocolate, of course, plus bitter and oily rosemary, subtly perfumed rose petals and a harder tar burntness that works well in beers like this. Although it's a big big flavour, it's balanced and harmonious: much better than the porter we came in on.

Oddity has been going barely a year at this stage, and they couldn't be in better hands than the folks at Whiplash. I think there's still some dialling-in to be done with their recipes, however. Astral Trip is the one which shows me that the talent is there, and I will be buying their new ones when they appear.