Give us a Kees

Yeah, OK: my title doesn't really work. The brewery helpfully explains on the cans that in English phonetics it's pronounced "case". Kees (or "Kees!" as it used to render it, more dramatically) is a producer I used to encounter at the Borefts beer festival every year, having started life as a contract brewer based out of De Molen. These days it's a standalone operation in Middelburg in the south-west of the Netherlands.

First up today is the straight, no-nonsense Kees IPA. "Fresh 'n spiky!" squeaks the can, so maybe a little nonsense. It's very slightly hazy in the glass, a dirty shade of ochre. We're told it's brewed with American hops but not which ones. I'm guessing Cascade from the rough grapefruit aroma, though there's something fruitier too, adding a Starburst candy vibe. This sweetness is the mainstay of the beer's flavour, a perfumey and artificial twang, mixing peach, cantaloupe and honeysuckle, finishing with a strange milk-chocolate aftertaste. It's all a little bit busy, and the body isn't quite full enough to carry everything. At 6.2% ABV there should be more substance. I had hoped for something more classically constructed, and at least a decent poke of American-style bitterness. But I guess that's not the fashion at the moment, and IPA unadorned means a fruity concoction like this.

The style is given a Belgian twist with Mosaic Hop, as well as a slight ABV downgrade, to 5.5%. Again, we're left with a slightly hazy glassful, though paler gold and with a loose cask-like head. Sure enough the carbonation is low, with little more than a gentle sparkle on the tongue. A big yeast character has combined with a big hop character to create a slightly weird child. It smells of ripe banana, roaring with fruity esters, but a different kind of fruit too: the tropical mango and cantaloupe of on-form Mosaic. I sensed it was going to be quite busy and so it proved on tasting. Pear drops, hummus, apricots, lemon peel and more bananas all swirl about in the flavour, never quite settling into a predictable sequence. It's disorientating and a little headache inducing. If this is your bag, have at it, but it's not what I want from a Belgian-style beer, or an IPA.

I hoped for better from Spring Blossom, a 6% ABV pale ale. I feel within my rights to expect elderflower or the like in this but it's actually unadorned by daft ingredients, relying on plain old Ahtanum and Centennial hops to make it interesting. They don't really. It's all rather plain, which is definitely a step up from the previous mess, but the strength means there should be more going on. What is going on is a clean and tangy lemon sherbet flavour, set on another lightly effervescent body: fun up front but fading to nothing far too quickly. It's quaffable and quenching, though I felt I needed to be a bit careful with it. I get what they're going for here, something light and breezy and undemanding. They've managed it, but just at too high a gravity for optimum performance.

We'll take a quick break from IPAs and the brewery claims that the next one, It's a Blond, is American style but it seems to me that we're back in Belgian territory. "American" implies hop character whereas this is extremely estery. It looks innocent in the glass -- a clear golden -- and at 5.9% ABV doesn't go overboard on the alcohol. One sniff, however, and we're deep in Belgium, with an alluring mix of honey and pears. That concentrated peardrop quality I found in Mosaic Hop is very pronounced in the flavour of this one, to the point where it turns to solvent. A peach skin bitterness arrives in the finish and then departs leaving a perfumey aftertaste. All told, it's not very different to the mass-market blonde ales from the Belgian giants, simply constructed with minimal complexity. Maybe that was the intention, though I'm still boggling at the "American" designation.

Hazy Sunrise New England-style IPA has been around almost as long as there have been New England IPAs. It's a sizeable 7.1% ABV, making me think they're trying to channel one of the old guard, and Alchemist's Focal Banger in particular. In the glass it looks dense and orangey and there's a strong whiff of hot booze and savoury caraway. On tasting it's almost fruity. There's a certain amount of banana and red apple but loads of acridly dry caraway. Mosaic features in the hops and it's in one of its grumpy moods. I liked the big texture, and the pleasing warmth -- all that alcohol is put to good use -- but the hops just didn't sit right with me and I didn't enjoy it as a result.

The last chance saloon for IPA is I Can See Clearly Now, a west coaster also at 7.1% ABV. I have no qualms about the appearance, it's the perfect shade of clear rose-gold. There's not much of an aroma, just a faintly sweet malt character, which doesn't bode well. Best before September 2022 it said, so should be plenty fresh, but it really doesn't taste it. It's dry and savoury for the most part -- fried onion and tahini -- with a hard-candy sweetness and a harsh rasp of bitterness in the finish. The hop combination is Cascade, Amarillo and Nelson Sauvin, and I expected better from that. It was heavy going to get through 440ml, partly because of the taste, but also the weighty texture and a significant alcohol burn. I didn't spot any technical flaws; it's just that once again the recipe doesn't hang together well.

I knew IPA wasn't Kees's strong point, and I think I've had my bias confirmed. Now stout they know how to do, so I was ready for an enjoyment about-face with Caramel Fudge Stout. I loved a bourbon-aged version at Borefts a few years ago so was delighted when the original showed up here. It's a beaut. The name is bait, there to lure in the candyboys, but the first kick of the flavour is hop bitterness. That matches with a big waft of chocolate liqueur booze, and I can see why bourbon barrels occurred to the brewer as the next logical step. It's a massive 11.5% ABV but that's entirely justified and performs its role perfectly. Deeper in the flavour there's a cakey chocolate thing, so you don't get stiffed on the dessert: it really does taste like a gooey fudge-laden pudding. And then for a little extra seriousness there's a dry burnt element in the finish, contrasting but complementary. Overall: a masterpiece. It's just silly enough to earn the pastry stout credentials, but there's an expertly made imperial stout at its core, one which can still be tasted through the candy adjuncts.

I'm not sure if we're going to be getting more Kees over here but I'll definitely be choosing dark over pale next time I have the option.

Welcome, strangers

It was a pleasant surprise to find beers from two Irish breweries we don't see much of here in Dublin. It was especially surprising that it happened in Aldi, but I'm not looking a discount horse in the mouth. 

I have a huge amount of respect for how Connemara Brewing has gone about its business: only two beers, simply designed, with a strong emphasis on selling locally in Galway. The corollary there is that the beers must be of impeccable quality, but with Aine O'Hora in charge (latterly of Boyne Brewhouse and Wicklow Wolf) that's a fairly likely outcome.

The first I opened was Connemara Irish Lager. It's 4.5% ABV and a perfect gold colour with just a minor bit of haze. The aroma is proper cool pilsner grass and the flavour leans to the Czech side for me. So there's a substantial malt base with elements of honey and golden syrup, and then the hops swing in half way through, green and leafy and noble, showing fresh spinach and lambs lettuce. It finishes crisply with a perfect cleanness. That malt side suggests to me a greater strength than it turns out to be, which is impressive: I like how it's satisfyingly full while also completely pintable. Top marks.

Normally lager is the tough one, but I reckoned that impressing me with something called Connemara Irish Ale would be tougher. I thought it would be red but it's actually a pale ale in the broadly American style, pouring a medium orange with a haze that suggests unrefined rather than fashion-chasing. There's a hard candy aroma but it's juicier on tasting, with notes of mango and cantaloupe. A pithy tang on the end adds just enough balancing bitterness. Again they've managed to create a full body from a modest gravity, allowing for lovely big smooth gulps. The 33cl can is not really optimal for a quaffer like this: go bigger, enjoy more.

The final one in this set is from Hilden: Wry Fox. This "Irish ale" is indeed red, shading to a foxy amber-brown. It has the soft and warming caramel that goes with that, but there's rye too, a goodly amount of it I'd say. That gives it an intense dry bitterness, sharp and peppery, in a way that I found jars unpleasantly with the sweetness. In the aroma that translates to a medicinal or herbal quality: punchy, but not an indication of an easy-going beer. Rye fanatics will likely love this; I found it hard work. 5% ABV and lots of weighty malt suggest it's probably better suited to winter too.

The Connemaras were the stand-outs for me and I'm delighted Aldi gave me the opportunity to try them. Should I ever see the taps on a trip out west I'll know there's something solidly reliable available.

Lager blues

Oskar Blues is back on a lager kick, with two that are new to me.

With its plain packaging, Oskar's Lager looks like it's been around forever but it was added to their line-up only last year. "American Pale Lager" is as far as the description goes, and the inclusion of calorie and carbohydrate data tells you the audience at which it's pitched. It is insanely pale in the glass, the greenish-white of a perry rather than any lager. At 4.2% ABV there's no excuse for that. It's plenty fizzy too, big crackling bubbles failing to form a head. There's a strange match-head sulphur aroma and a faint malt sweetness in the foretaste, one which fades embarrassingly quickly leaving only the carbonic bite of all that fizz. This is exactly the sort of beer the American craft movement set itself against from day one. To see a leading light like Oskar Blues present one unironically is just confusing.

To wash the lack of taste out of my mouth, I turned to Slow Chill Vienna-Style Lager. The limpid copper colour was immediately pleasing and its aroma demonstrated the perfect combination of toasty biscuit malt and sharp green noble hopping. That had me expecting something wonderful in the taste but what followed was actually quite plain. The texture is good, making excellent use of 5% ABV to create something fully süffig, but that doesn't launch much flavour. There's a gentle roastiness and a spinachy bitter tang, but nothing especially strong or distinctive. Maybe this is another one where I should applaud an American brewery for being subtle in a European style, but it left me wanting more, of biscuity melanoidins in particular. You may appreciate it extra if your palate is more delicate than mine.

Not OB's best lagery work here. Neither are offensive or overambitious or difficult. I merely question the rationale of shipping them here from Colorado.

Pirates, dragons and monks

All going well I should be in Belgium at the moment. Like all seasoned travellers I did some acclimatisation before setting out, with the help of this six-pack of strong beers I found in Lidl.

Piraat I've had before, but since my review was posted in January 2006 and is, let's say, brief, I thought a fuller reappraisal was in order. Idly I assumed it was one of those generic Duvel clones but it's a fair bit stronger at 10.5% ABV, and darker with that; properly amber. There's lots of lovely fruit in the aroma: fruit-cake fruit like sultanas, glacé cherries and lemon peel, with an edge of marker pen as well. For all that it's quite a smooth creature to drink, the light and spritzy citrus being the most dominant feature. There's a soft peach and apricot side too. The warmth arrives late and isn't overdone, just a mild richness bringing to mind chocolate or almond paste. It's a superb example of very strong beer presented in an approachable way. You'll know you've had a drink but won't suffer any difficulties getting there.

While I say they're not out to rip off Duvel, that there's now a Triple Hop Piraat is rather on the nose. In contrast to Duvel's approach, however, there are four varieties in here and the label doesn't deign to tell us which ones. Points off for that. The appearance is the same as above and the fruit in the aroma is a little fresher, but not in any identifiable way. On smell alone it's not an improvement, and I don't get a huge amount of difference on tasting either. The weight and warmth elbows any extra hop character out of the foretaste -- you're left with just the standard Belgian yeast-derived stonefruit esters. Only at the very end, more the aftertaste than the finish, is there a bonus squeeze of citrus, suggesting that some American variety or other might have been involved. Overall, it's not impressive. It's fine, but it talks a hop game on which it simply cannot deliver.

Gulden Draak is another one that I covered here in the dim and distant, and I think I've had it a few times since. The brewery styles it as a "ruby red tripel", and I can't think of any other Belgian beer so designated (though of course there's an Irish one). We're still at 10.5% for the ABV. The aroma is every bit of that: a powerful waft of nail varnish remover and fermenting brown apples. A subtle experience is not on the cards. The flavour is thankfully less severe. It's surprisingly clean and not hot, with the first effects to land being milk chocolate and a honey side which earns the beer its place in the tripel category. The honey lasts long, and is a little sticky, but a mild bitterness comes with it for balance; a complementary wax tang. On the fade-out there's a more dubbel or quadrupel-like touch of raisin and date, while the aftertaste is surprisingly small. I took a little time to adjust to this, but it turned out to be quite the gentle giant by the time I was half way down. Not one to drink casually, though neither is it a chore.

The newcomer under this brand is Gulden Draak 9000. It's branded as a quadrupel and I thought they had taken a cheeky liberty with this pseudo-Belgian style because it says on the back of the label it's blonde. It's not, though, being instead dark enough to qualify, if a little pale compared to others: a dusky russet shade. There's no shifting us from that 10.5% ABV. The aroma is quite subtle: a gentle mix of dark fruit and spices of the sort you'd find in ordinary dubbel. Again, though, the proper quadrupel qualities follow later: cola nut, plum pudding and some creamy coffee. Everything is in order, then. The booze is well hidden, and if there's anything I can criticise this for, it's a lack of complexity. It's much less interesting than GD Classic. Being shipped next to it in a boxed set really throws that into relief.

We finally get a break from the double-digit alcohol with Bornem, a brand that's entirely new to me. Bornem Dubbel is 7.2% ABV and a deep rich brown colour. The dark fruit in the aroma is properly dubbel though there's a touch of stout-like roast as well, which is unusual but not unwelcome. That goes into hiding for the flavour, however: that's a down-the-line mix of fig, raisin and date, with a happy pinch of nutmeg and white pepper. No bum notes here, and no fancy tricks either: just the basics of a very decent dubbel. For me the texture is the standout feature, a beautiful smoothness that blends all the flavours together harmoniously. Top tier stuff here. Can they top it with a tripel?

Bornem Tripel also looks de rigueur: 9% ABV and an appropriate cloudy golden hue. The aroma is less orthodox, however: it smells like a pilsner, with a crisp green grassiness and no typically Belgian complexities. We're back to normality on tasting and the first thing that strikes is a very full, almost syrupy texture. I was surprised to see rice on the ingredients list but don't know if that has anything to do with the thickness. It's not unpleasant and entirely in keeping for an ale this strength. The flavour presents honey first, turning briefly floral before an abruptly bitter finish. I wouldn't expect a lot of hop character from a tripel but this one has a somewhat leafy, vegetal edge that I associate with traditional English varieties in particular. I looked around this for some fun spicing but there's none of that. So it's a tripel, then, but quite a plain one, missing out on the understated flair of the dubbel.

It was €16 for the six-pack, and I think I got good value from that. It makes regular appearances in Lidl so is worth keeping an eye peeled for, if you like your Belgian beer. I have a post-script to go along with it, too. Last month I wrote about the new-release beers from Trappists Westmalle and Rochefort, noting that Chimay had a new one as well. That finally washed ashore here so I got to give it a go before heading away.

Chimay 150 tells us little about itself on the front label, just that it's strong and blonde. On the back that's fleshed out with the information it's 10% ABV and contains "spices". There's certainly something a bit different going on in the aroma. Sniffing blind, I would probably say American hops were involved: there's a fresh zesty citrus thing going on, out of place for a Trappist, but smelling very pleasant. On tasting I get bergamot's slightly herbal quality, bringing an air of bath-bomb, and then sweeter, juicier peach and apricot. It finishes cleanly, with zero alcohol burn, and nothing I would describe as a spice. Overall, a decent and interesting beer, and very much a sideways twist on the more traditional golden Trappist offerings. Chimay's quality shines through regardless.

OK, close the doors and spin up the jet engines. Belgium: I'm ready for you.

The test

Back when walking into an unfamiliar brewery taproom and trying a few beers was a thing I did, I instituted the habit of starting with a pils or similar. Most places had one and it's generally a good indicator of the brewery's overall acumen. Also, I like pils, but that's neither here nor there. I was thinking about this rough and ready approach to assessment when I came to these cans from Zagovor Brewery of Moscow. I have had a couple from them before, three years ago, and wasn't impressed. But here were three styles very much representing the basic styles of modern craft brewing. Could these boost the brewery's reputation for me? None was a pils, unfortunately.

First up it was Surf in a Big City. Only the headline information is in English so while I knew it was a Fruited Sour Ale, I wasn't feeling energetic enough to practise my Russian and figure out which fruits are involved. The internet tells me it's pineapple, passionfruit and blood orange. It's a happy, glowing, medium orange with a shortlived head: all par for the course. The aroma is pleasingly passionfruit-like with a twang of tartness, like a sorbet. That had me expecting clean and zingy but it turned out quite thick on the palate. I might have known that would be the case as it's 5% ABV rather than anything in the mid-to-low 3s. A juicy sweetness comes with that density, its orange side rising to match the passionfruit. This is at the expense of the sour side, which only just clings on, determined to offer a clean finish and preventing a sweet and sticky mess. It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for but it's well put-together and has a definite charm. If the fruit is the important bit of Fruited Sour Ale for you, get hold of some of this.

Naturally it's a New England IPA next: Stop 'N' Go, brewed with lupulin powder to 7% ABV. It looks bang on -- a pale opaque yellow with a fluffy white head -- and it smells great too, of mangos and peaches and all that juicy goodness. It's juice in the flavour too, though a more mundane orange sort, yet surprisingly realistic. Behind it there's a little citrus bitterness for balance and a touch of fuzzy grit because nobody's perfect. A little vanilla emerges as it warms but the alcohol remains well hidden. Citra and Mosaic are the hops, and their contrasting characteristics lend this beer an excellent balance. Despite that one, entirely style-appropriate, flaw this is a very good example of what New England IPA is supposed to be. The juicy smoothness and the fresh hop flavour are archetypal and it's frankly astounding that so many other examples aren't as well poised as this one. Zagovor passes the NEIPA part of the test with flying colours.

And of course you have to have a big pastry stout. Barrel-aged for preference, but I won't hold that against them. This is Algorithm DC. The brewery says it's based on chocolate cake but doesn't contain lactose. It's a massive 13.5% ABV for extra craft points and fully dense and dark to go with that. Here I have no idea what the adjunct ingredients are but would be willing to bet coconut is involved. Chocolate too, I'd say: big surprise. And then there's a strange sort of crisply burnt caramel, tasting like that lattice you get on desserts in posh restaurants, with maybe an element of ginger snap basket. It's fascinating how they've made it taste like dessert without being super sweet. There's a gentle waft of fresh-roasted coffee for afters. It's a polite sort of extreme stout, the flavour elements lining up one after the other to present themselves. It could stand to be more warming, and maybe that's where the barrel ageing would come in. At the risk of damning with faint praise, I deem this interestingly off-kilter.

It's a decent showing from Zagovor, then. They've covered the fundamentals of modern beer styles as proficiently as any top-tier European brewery. I'm still holding out for that pils, however.

Still alive

In all the recent controversy about employment practices at Big Craft breweries, I couldn't help feel a little sorry for Stone. They weren't named, as far as I'm aware, and I wondered if that's because this giant has lost a little of its relevance -- no longer the spotlight-hogging craft colossus it once was. Or maybe they're just a better employer than their younger rivals. I picked up a couple of their beers for old times' sake.

Despite its west-coast origins I'm sure the brewery has been fully on top of the cloudy IPA situation since it began. This one is called Neverending Haze and is a session IPA at 4% ABV. It's a slightly grim looking dun colour with a desultory dishwater head: loose-bubbled and disappearing quickly. The aroma is broadly citric, but very understated. I thought maybe that low carbonation was the issue but it's actually plenty fizzy; possibly even too fizzy: thin-textured with a sharply carbonic bite. Could the flavour make up for these shortcomings? Not really. It's plain, with a homebrewish yeast twang and only a token amount of lemony foretaste. The properly bitter afteraste was a nice flourish; two fingers to New England from California (or Virginia), and there's a tea-like dryness that helps clean up the worst excesses of the murk. But even American brewers can do better than this with the specs.

Conversely, Delicious has been part of the Stone range for many years and is much more their métier. It's an American IPA devoid of nonsense, 7.7% ABV and a flawless pale amber colour. An aroma of caramel studded with citrus fruit told me we were back in the good old days. They've loaded the crystal malt into this, giving it a heavy rich texture and a long toffee aftertaste. That's necessary because up front it's all hop. They're quite modern varieties -- El Dorado and Lemon Drop -- but it may as well be Cascade and Centennial because the effect is pure classic: pine, grapefruit, lime peel, and all of it pristine-clean and deliciously dry. I'm sure this turned heads when it first arrived, and now as a found artefact from a bygone age it's turning mine. Never mind the west coast revival, viva the west coast continuum.

We frequently hear of established American breweries closing as the market dries up for the products with which they made their names. I genuinely hope that Stone, and breweries like it, can continue doing what they do best for some time yet, preferably without having to turn tricks in the name of fashion to make ends meet.

Farmhouse fruit

Ireland's pale ales are released with such frequency as to necessitate a regular round-up on here. Maybe it's just because it's summer, but it's looking like the same may be necessary for wild fruit beers. I've built up quite a collection of them, and while I'm sure none are likely to explode, I do need to drink them. Let's get started.

Ballykilcavan was the first of this lot to come my way. Clancy's Cans #5 is a Hibiscus & Grapefruit Farmhouse Ale, which is an intriguing combination. It's on the strong side for this sort of thing at 4.8% ABV and a bright and cheery shade of purpleish pink. The aroma is no more than mildly tart and the texture thin, which I guess is to make it summery and refreshing: definitely preferable to the hot jam some of these get off on. A dry quality goes along with that, and despite the colour it's the grapefruit that's loudest: peppery spice meeting acidic spritz. The cherry/raspberry effect of the hibiscus adds no more than a topping on this. It's not really sour, though there is a gritty, earthy saison side, giving it the wild dimension. Overall it's rather jolly. Grapefruit in saison is a tried and tested formula, and that's pretty much what you get here, wearing a pink jacket.

I'm a fan of the daft bubblegum flavour of prickly pear so was delighted to see Rye River include it in their early summer seasonal special, High Noon. It's joined by blood orange in the 4.5%-er but other than the pinkish tint I sense little sign of it. Produced by mixed fermentation, the beer is primarily sour, with a soft and super-clean tartness the main feature. I approve of that in fruited ones. While there's a sweet side, I don't think I'd be able to pick out which fruits were involved. And to be honest, I don't care. I drank this outside on a far-too-warm evening and it was just what I needed. The coldness, the tartness, the fizz: a perfect formula for refreshment. Complexity can take a back seat for now.

Lough Gill is perhaps the most prolific of the sweet 'n' sour crew. The latest is raspberry flavoured and called Ripple. This is 4.7% ABV and a deep, clear, blood-red colour. The pink foam on top is short-lived and after a second you're left with what looks like a glass of Ribena. The raspberry aroma is sweet but not overpowering and there's a pleasing pinch of tartness at the front of the flavour. It turns sweeter afterwards yet retains a hard mineral tang, with enough sour to keep things clean and refreshing all the way through. The raspberry tastes natural while the lactose keeps a low profile. It's an all-round good 'un; not a masterpiece of mixed-fermentation complexity or anything, but a very decent fruity thirst-quencher.

It's four from Hopfully next. First up, No Cars Fruited Gose with another off-kilter fruit combination: the sharpness of lime against the sweetness of passionfruit. Does it work? Yes, actually. Delightfully. They're separate in the aroma but the combined effect is like a classy cloudy lemonade: a raw and intense citrus bitterness loaded up with sugar for balance. On tasting the passionfruit lands first, adding as much to the texture as the flavour, giving it a kind of smoothie effect. The lime arrives late on this soft texture and gives all the flavour with little of the acidic kick. It's a fun combination, weighty yet refreshing and well balanced. What's missing from the picture is any sourness. While it does contain salt and coriander, there's also lactose and vanilla, so I can't see any justification for slapping the gose designation on it. But whatever: it's delicious. I'm guessing there was a lot of experimentation before they settled on lime and passionfruit in the perfect ratio.

Shortly before this came out there was also No Cars Triple Fruited Gose , this one with peach and cherry to go with the lime, coriander, salt and lactose. No vanilla, though. Wouldn't want to go overboard with silly ingredients. The cherry gives it a pink colour and it smells surprisingly savoury: a sort of grainy rye-cracker kind of thing. There's a hint of that in the flavour: a crispness that helps balances the sweet side. That sweetness is primarily the cherry's doing: a gooey maraschino jam at the centre with an edge of lime and a little ice cream from the lactose. Again it lacks a proper sour bite and we don't hear much from the peach, but I like cherries and I'm glad they're in the driving seat, with the limes reading the map. It's not as good as the previous one, though, being busier and less sure of what it's doing. It's fine though.

I almost omitted No Cars Dry Hopped Gose from this post for lack of fruit but a glance at the small print tells me there's lime in this one, alongside salt and coriander, plus Simcoe, Mosaic, Azacca and Comet hops. Oh and lactose. Always with the lactose. This is the palest of the three, being an almost greenish shade of murky yellow. There's a lovely aroma of citrus fruit meeting acidic tartness and a saline mouthfeel, like proper lime-and-lactose-free gose. The lime punches hard in the flavour, coming across concentrated and sugary. But the herb, the hops and, especially, the salt help to balance it. It took me a moment to twig that this tastes like a Margarita, with similar refreshment superpowers. While one might hope for a bigger hop character from something describing itself as "dry hopped", every ingredient does pull its weight and the result is very tasty.

For the latest No Cars, Hopfully put the Lime with a Coconut. I drank them both together. It looks like they wanted to double up on that coconut too as it's hopped with Sabro. Both the headline ingredients are very prominent in the aroma, set on a cleanly tart base. Surprisingly, the coconut takes a bit of a back seat when it comes to the foretaste, with lots of lime and salt for the Margarita effect again. The lactose is adding a little substance to the mouthfeel -- required at 3.5% ABV -- but thankfully no flavour; citric and bacterial sourness ruling supreme. I had this down as extremely similar to the previous one until the very end where there's a cheeky pinch of desiccated coconut. I'm not sure it adds anything useful. This is fine but I had lost interest in the series by the time I'd got this far.

We finish on a whopper from Third Barrel: 6.5% ABV of raspberry and mango called On To The Next One! It looks like a Bloody Mary in the glass, thick and opaquely scarlet. There's lots of raspberry in the aroma, as one would expect, and it's cut with something softer but I wouldn't be able to guess mango without being told. This isn't a combination I have encountered before but it smells promising. What's disappointing is there's almost no sourness to taste. There's a tang, sure, but it's easily attributable to the berries. Though not full-on sticky jam it is closer to a smoothie than raspberryade. That tropical buzz I detected in the aroma helps keep the raspberry somewhat in check, but again there wasn't anything specifically mango about it. A peppery spice gives the finish a kick, though I could still be thinking about Bloody Marys again. That happens. By the end I was enjoying it; dialled-back sourness is less of a problem when there aren't shovelfuls of lactose rubbing salt in the wound.

This sort of beer gets a lot of stick, and while I'm sure a proportion of it is deserved, there's some very good examples in the genre. This was just a few examples.

Hello and goodbye

Today's brewery is the ever-prolific Wicklow Wolf, and five new special release beers.

First off it's the second in the 2021 Locavore series, a Foraged Gorse Saison, the shrubbery augmenting hops from the brewery's own farm. At 6.5% ABV it's not exactly light summer fare, despite the sunny yellow appearance and zesty lemon aroma. There's a considerable heft to the body, feeling almost thick in the mouth, which isn't how I like my saisons ordinarily. Luckily the flavour is very well constructed, preserving all the earthy spice and stonefruit of easy-going saison and setting it beside a strong and real gorse coconut taste which doesn't overpower it. I still think the gravity could have been dialled back to make it more refreshing and less of a fruit salad, but it works well as-is, and definitely not compromised for want of imported ingredients.

Pete, head brewer at Wicklow Wolf since day one, is leaving. They've marked the occasion with a rebrew of one of the original line-up from 2014, their American amber, re-named For Pete's Sake. Although it's the same 4.8% ABV I detect a certain extra nuance that comes of seven years' experience and a fancier kit. The old one was punchily bitter up front: all the American-style first-gen WW beers were. This allows the malt much more legroom and is smoother as a result. It begins on caramel and fudge then spices things up with grass and pine, finishing sweetly and dank. And that's it. It doesn't try to do anything extreme -- just a classic American style, executed pretty much perfectly. An appropriate send-off. Happy trails, Pete.

Rounding out this set, and very much the sort of thing Wicklow Wolf made its name on, is a west-coast style double IPA under the prog-rock name of Vortex Illusion. It's 8% ABV and a mostly clear amber colour, smelling of course of grapefruit with a backing of toffee. The hops get lost a bit in the flavour. That emphasises the big malt in a way typical of old-school American double IPAs and it's almost sickly with the sweetness. There's no fruit nuance from the hopping (the can doesn't tell us the varieties) and there's just a hard mineral bitterness arriving late. A warming aftereffect suggests something considerably stronger too. It's a bit of a bruiser, all told, and my preference runs to the cleaner and sharper sort of double IPAs. This certainly offers a contrast to all the fluffy hazy stuff, just not the sort I'm usually in search of.

The next two just made it over the line in time for the publication date, quaffed swiftly earlier this week. The first is an IPA with grapefruit called Grapefruit Season and is a beautiful, clear, sunset amber colour. Fresh and fizzy citrus candy arrives in the aroma, only grapefruit in a Lilt sort of way, with shades of pineapple and mango coming out as well. It's light-bodied at 5.3% ABV, and the overactive carbonation adds to the soft-drink effect. It isn't distinctively grapefruit, the fruit more like generic fruit-flavoured chews and lacking in bitterness. The first sniffs and sips were fun but it got quite boring after that, finishing quick and lacking complexity. I was in a hurry so didn't mind. Enjoy this in the summer sun if there's any of that left, but don't take it too seriously.

We conclude with one definitely not made for hasty guzzling, a triple IPA of 10% ABV, brewed in collaboration with Boundary and titled Underwater Welding. It's another prettyboy: deep orange with a handsome, loosely-formed head. The aroma is not strong but still quite extreme, mixing a herbal bitterness with harsh citric pith, and achieved with Idaho 7 and Talus hops. Whatever didn't come out in the smell was saved for the flavour, because that is big. First impression is of a liqueur, more like Aperol or triple sec: a spiced-up and concentrated orange booziness of the sort you're meant to soften with something else. It's extremely sweet and quite fuzzily textured, making it something you have to take your time with. Nevertheless there's a cleanness to it which I found charming, the massive citrus, spice and booze all distinct. It might be one to share, however: 440ml was hard work by myself.

Since day one, Wicklow Wolf cannot be faulted for variety. And they usually can't be faulted for doing big hops correctly too. Maybe the post-Pete era will be all about the Belgian yeasts and gorse flowers.

Gone mainstream

It looks like Wide Street has taken a strange turn and gone straight. The mixed fermentation specialist, friend to yeast strains other breweries shun, has released a pair in seemingly very conventional styles. What's going on?
 
An oh-so-basic pale ale comes first, called Sound By Design. It's 4.4% ABV, hopped with El Dorado and Idaho 7 and contains nothing more exotic than oats. It poured clear and a pale yellow until near the end when it started to haze up, followed by some craft nuggets of congealed gack plopping into the glass in a most artisanal way. I began to doubt the clean yeast thing from the aroma. It has that gorgeous mix of ripe peach and spicy cedarwood that comes from Brettanomyces and its ilk. Is that really all done with hops here? The flavour spins in a different direction but no less pleasingly interesting. It's dry and a little tannic, and while it doesn't go full funky there's a certain highly attenuated quality, adjacent to sour but not quite. Maybe it's a social experiment: doing a mixed fermentation but saying nothing to see if the punter will notice. Or maybe the wild yeast who are presumably in charge of the brewhouse at this stage don't care about the intentions or labels of the two-legged lever-pullers. I won't speculate further. I will say that this is a fascinating and very tasty pale ale. It could pass for a run-of-the-mill American-style job, but I strongly suspect there's more than that going on.

To follow, a witbier: inexplicably the style of the moment from Irish breweries. Time-Lapse Witbier is the second in the brewery's Time-Lapse series of seasonal limited editions, borrowing a gold-medal-winning recipe from a local home brewer. That's always a good sign and more breweries should do it. In proper BJCP-compliance it's 5% ABV and a translucent yellow shade. They have eschewed the orange peel in the recipe but -- plot twist -- have replaced it with Citra hops for the requisite acidic kick. It works fabulously in the aroma: a fresh lemon spritz like a dead posh cloudy lemonade. So at the very least it smells like summer. It doesn't quite deliver that in the flavour, however, coming across quite dry. The Citra is a bit pushy, elbowing the coriander and any yeast spicing out of the way. You end up with something almost like an American pale ale, but not a good one. It's an interesting twist on the style and completely technically proficient. It's not an improvement on you-know-Hoe, however: the curse and challenge of craft wit.

Obviously we all pray the day will never come when Wide Street is a gigantic, fully-mechanised concern, turning out blandly consistent ciphers of the recipes it made its name on. These beers give me hope that that's a logical impossibility. Whether it's rogue microbes or home brewers on too long a leash, creativity will always find a way.

Denied boarding

Latvia was top of my travel list for 2020 and, well, I guess it can stay there a bit longer. I don't think I have so much as drank a single beer from Latvia so when a range from Ārpus Brewing arrived in Craft Central I leapt on them. The brewery was founded in 2017 and is to the north east of Riga.

They seem like an on-trend bunch because all seven were either some sort of a pale ale or a fruited "imperial sour ale". I started on the latter set, each of which is 8% ABV. The first was Apricot x Guava x Passionfruit, unsurprisingly a bright orange in the glass though surprisingly sour in the aroma, with a sharp and flinty mineral dryness promised. It's very thick, which contributes a lot to the feel of freshly-pulped fruit, shading towards a smoothie. It does this without giving off any alcohol heat, which is impressive. The guava is the loudest of the elements, and it's not often passionfruit gets shouted down in beers like this. It's still very definitely tropical from the outset. That sourness from the aroma arrives late, but it's as complex as it first seemed, with a sulphurous spice followed by a cleansing acidity that does a fantastic job of offsetting the heavy fruit gunk. They have cleverly resisted the urge to load it up with lactose and that really helps the balance. I did not expect this one, or this series, to suit me, but we were off to a very promising start.

Lychee x Passionfruit x Mango followed immediately after as I was keen to find out if they could keep the momentum up. This looks pretty much the same, and while the sour tang is there in the aroma, the passionfruit character is far more what I'd expect: very much in my face from the get-go. The texture is lighter in this, and that helps the sourness take more of a leading role. The flavour is plainer, less busy. While the passionfruit is unmistakable, I would have to be told about the lychee and especially the mango, but once I know they're there I don't disagree. This is an altogether gentler affair, more like a beer than a smoothie, and I think I enjoyed it a little more for that. Whatever sour culture they're using -- and I've never tasted anything quite like it -- is more pronounced here. A fruit explosion at 8% ABV that stays cleanly tart is quite the achievement.

They couldn't possibly continue that into Blueberry x Raspberry x Coconut x Vanilla, could they? A dartboard recipe if ever I saw one. It's the purple colour of a blueberry compote and the aroma again shows a clean tartness, mainly berry but part sour beer too. It's nowhere near as busy as the name suggests. Turns out that when you mix blueberry, raspberry and coconut you get something that tastes very like blackcurrant: that oily, almost savoury, effect, with touches of sultana and tannin. A thick smoothie sweetness helps balance that without going overboard, while the sour beer side arrives at the very end to scrub away any traces of jamminess. Of the vanilla there is almost no sign, but perhaps it's working in the background. Of the three, this one resembles what I would have thought is implied by the concept of imperial fruit sour beer, but it's not a bad one. As before there's an understated side to the sweetness and just enough tart tang to stop it from being one of those craft beer jokes. All three are exemplary for any brewer getting into this line of production.

Time to cleanse the palate with some hops, then. They've presented a handy sliding scale of pale ales, though starting reasonably high at 5.5% ABV with DDH Strata Pale Ale. It's very murky, with clouds of milky guff following the beer into the glass. From a distance it smells juicy but up close that turns to a less pleasant mix of super-sweet candy and savoury caraway. Both are still present in the taste but aren't problematic as there are other complexities. It's surprisingly hot and boozy for one thing, an effect enhanced by the thick New England texture. A buzz of garlic goes with that, and a good measure of resinous bitter dankness. It's a blousey, highly typical hazy job, but I quite liked it for all that. There's a lot to be said for bold flavours simply doing their thing, as long as nothing has gone wrong. I felt the tone had been set for what was to follow.

A blip in the self-explanatory names is DDH Hops x Art #09 IPA. You wouldn't know what you're getting, though you would be right to expect it to be solidly yellow. There's a strong buzz of sweet tropical fruit in the aroma -- cantaloupe and passionfruit in particular. The flavour is surprisingly savoury, though not in a bad way. It's a subtle hint of both red and spring onions up front, fading after a moment allowing sweeter mandarin and nectarine to follow. This is 6.5% ABV and tastes every bit of that, thick and warming, but stopping short of turning hot. Overall it's quite a decent hazy IPA. A little unexciting, perhaps, and doing nothing unusual within the style parameters, but solidly made and enjoyable to drink.

8% ABV is the next point on the scale, where we find the double IPA called DDH Simcoe Cryo. Amazingly the aroma is still sweet and fruity -- not what I would have considered an attribute of the titular hop. The flavour is a lot more serious: crisp rye cracker, dry grass and boiled spinach. Fruit returns on the finish, a concentrated orange cordial effect, lingering late with the yeasty fuzz. The alcohol is extremely well concealed and it ends up tasting lighter than even the previous one. Still, severe Simcoe isn't a great choice of hop for this kind of fuzzy thing, especially on its own.The formula might work better with something cheerier.

The sun sets on this lot with DDH Galaxy x Vic Secret TIPA. Lord help you if you don't already know your beer acronyms and hop names. "This is not for beginners" is the loud and clear message. It's an even 10% ABV and the colour of tropical fruit juice. Galaxy's jaffa spritz controls the aroma but there's a sickly sweetness that comes with that. Thankfully the flavour is cleaner, though surprisingly plain: no big hop punch, no belly burn from the booze. There's an almost barley wine quality to the malt weight and richness, sweet without being excessive. An adjustment of expectations was necessary, but once done I found myself getting into it. It's a relaxing sipper, smooth and balanced. I have a sneaking fondness for the blue-flame burn of most triple IPAs and this doesn't have that, but it's no soupy mess either. Something more from the Vic Secret would be an improvement, but it's fine as is. An extreme beer of the easy-going kind.

I get an overall sense from these that the brewery isn't merely chasing trends and brewing the styles that pull in top dollar. The products feel like they come from a place of genuine joy in sour fruit beer and hazy IPA. and the brewery has honed both to be as good as possible. Fair play to them.

Suckin' Diesel

Shout-out to Blackrock Cellar for having a bunch of Dead Centre beers in stock when I called in a couple of months ago. These are very thin on the ground in Dublin. Today's theme, namewise, seems to be "unused Fast & Furious film titles".

"A true Cascadian dark ale" is the bold claim on Stealth Mode, based on its use of Cascade hops, featuring with Centennial and Galaxy. It's the lightweight of the crew at a mere 7.1% ABV and a proper dense black colour with an off-white head. The aroma is bright and zesty, suggesting it's the Galaxy that has the upper hand. I get a sharp lime sourness as well, and that's the surprise on tasting: a light body and a citric tang that builds to a tart intensity. The roast pulls things back from the edge, delivering the tarry, spicy richness that makes black IPA so loved and much missed. A brush of dark chocolate adds a dessertish quality to the finish. I wanted to like this, and it does more-or-less hit the spot for the style, but that thin sour sharpness made it seem too close to something infected, for my liking. Better pump up that gravity for the sequel.

Our middle child is Ultraviolet Tilt, a double IPA of the "DDH" variety but also claiming membership of the west coast club. We'll have to start using the term "neo-west-coast" for these hazy ones, though it is properly amber and has a dollop of crystal malt toffee in there with the hops. That said it is not wanting in old-school bitter citrus: the parade of grapefruit and lemon begins in the aroma and carries right through to the flavour, which is crisp and finishes dry on a note of Earl Grey and rye cracker. The modern side is not completely an illusion, and I definitely got juicy hints of mandarin and nectarine that aren't west-coast but added positive things to the overall complexity. And there's no heat. This is ludicrously refreshing for 8% ABV. IPA-wise there really is something for everyone in here.

I don't think I had ever encountered a sherry-barrel-aged tripel until Eight Degrees released Devil's Ladder late last year. Now Dead Centre has followed that with Preciou2 Cargo, created for the brewery's second anniversary. The concept has me on edge before I even flip the cap. Tripel is best when clean and dry, allowing the spices and honey to flow freely. Letting oaky vanillin leach into one seems inimical to that. This one at least looks OK -- a soothing shade of rich rose gold. It smells quite hot, of pear drops, lychees-in-syrup and cheap German white wine, which did nothing for my apprehension. Though all of 9.2% ABV it's quite light-bodied and missing all but a hint of carbonation. I think that's in its favour, doing a lot to calm the flavours. What you get on the palate is a sweet but not spicy mix of almond paste, honey and sultana, like a flaky middle eastern dessert. The sherry is definitely making a contribution, but it's well integrated into the beer, not a tacked-on gimmick. There's a slight vinousness on the lips at the end, but no belly-warmth. I found this challenging at first, then settled into it. Half a litre is a lot to sip through and it would have made quite a good sharer. Overall it's an excellent piece of work. I look forward to Preciou3 Cargo: Athlone Drift.

Some really interesting recipes from Dead Centre here. I hope their local distribution improves for me.

More contrast

Another brewery that likes to give us a bit of stylistic diversity with their specials and one-offs is Kinnegar. I've had to skip number 16 in the Brewers at Play series as it was an exclusive for top Belfast boozer The Sunflower, but today I've got the flankers, 15 and 17.

Brewers At Play 15 is a Vanilla Coffee Milk Stout. Kinnegar has good form in this sub-genre with its excellent Cup & Saucer several years ago. This one is lighter at 4.8% ABV and should be sweeter, from the added non-coffee ingredient. Still a dry coffee roast dominates the aroma, though there's a mineral tang as well -- the opposite of richness -- which suggests it might be thinner than anticipated. And so it transpires. This isn't silky and sumptuous, it is light and brisk: not unpleasantly watery but sailing dangerously close to it. The flavour comes across as caramel wafer biscuit and a touch of bourbon whiskey, with all the vanilla but none of the booze. Though there's a long lasting mocha aftertaste, the finish is quicker than expected. "Deep [and] rich" says the label; it's not. But it is fun and tasty, restrained in both alcohol and sugar. Sometimes that's enough.

The whole terminology issue must be a nightmare for breweries trying to be creative. Kinnegar seems content that everyone knows what Radler is, but weren't so confident about the weissbier equivalent being known as Russ. Therefore Brewers at Play 17 carries the slightly clumsy designation of Hefeweizen Radler: a very American sort of German notation, via north Donegal. A read of the label tells me this isn't even a Russ or a Radler, merely a low gravity weiss with added lemon zest. I fully expect the Bavarian navy to come sailing down the Swilly in search of vengeance. It does, in fairness, smell like Radler: sweet and lemony; pure summer spritz. It's as light-bodied as one would expect from any 3% ABV beer but avoids seeming thin, thanks to the wheat, I guess. And because it's not dosed up with sugar water it's not cloyingly sweet either. The fundamentals of good weissbier are in here -- bubblegum, clove candy and grassy noble hops -- and the lemon adds a mere seasoning, not a dominant taste. It's unorthodox but it works really well: light and refreshing without being thin or un-beer-like. I'm generally sceptical when English-speaking breweries muck about with established continental styles, but this idea has plenty going for it.

I didn't think there would be a connecting theme with such contrasting styles, but I guess it's "making intrinsically sweet beers not-horrible". Other breweries have much to learn from Kinnegar on the subject. Gather round.