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.