Dark and stormy

It's a small selection from Tipperary mavericks Canvas today, one blessed by two stouts, I'm pleased to say.

Smoking your own malt is very on-brand for the brewery, and they've enlisted local barbecue restaurant De Roiste's to do the necessary on the heritage barley grown and malted on the brewery farm. They've put it into Mike's Legacy, a stout of 4.3% ABV. It looks like a proper stout in the glass, a rich dark brown with a generous crema on top, although the extensive floaty bits bobbing around the body are a little off-putting. The aroma is a tarry bitterness which hints at the smoke but is also within the parameters of a heavy stout. This isn't heavy, its texture light with lots of fizz. A classic dry-stout roastiness is the core of the flavour; toasty to the point of ashen yet still somehow quenching and refreshing. The smoke is subtle and adds a savoury meaty side which is entirely complementary to the roasted malt. The result is very wholesome and old-fashioned tasting and I got a sense of warm bottles by a fireside of long ago. We're not told who Mike is, but this is a fine legacy for anyone.

It's only a couple of weeks since I last had a ginger beer on here, and here's another, with a very similar name: Zingiberi. This is no easy quaffer, though, but an altogether more serious drink. It's 6.6% ABV and a deep orange colour. We are promised a "fiery kick" by the label but I didn't really get that, merely a gentle ginger spicing -- gingernut biscuit level but no higher. The heavy gravity gives it a sort of creamy, yoghurty fullness, which is unusual, and a little unsettling if I'm honest. Lemon is listed in the ingredients but I can't taste its contribution. I think this falls between two beer styles: it has the heft of a strong ale but is missing the malt and hop flavours that make them worthwhile; and then it's just too heavy to be a refreshing ginger beer and doesn't carry enough spice to be a daring novelty. I'd go back to the drawing board with this, dial back the malt and increase the ginger.

You don't see too many historical recreation beers in these parts but here's Canvas Extra Stout, based on an early 20th century recipe from the Magee Marshall Brewery in Bolton. It's black, it's fizzy and it's 6.7% ABV, which all says "extra stout" to me. There's a slightly wild fruity sharpness in the aroma, the cherry of a Flemish red. The flavour follows that with a high-attenuation dryness within which is a red mix of summer berries and rosewater. You get a modicum of roasty mocha too. I prefer strong stouts to be richer than this; it's a little too thin and perfumed to be properly my sort of thing, but it has a lot going for it -- a kind of lightly soured Belgian charm.

Canvas's unique idiosyncrasies are very manifest in this lot -- it's a brewery full of daring recipes and unorthodox processes. The beers provide much to ponder, and that's part of the value.

Happy birthday EBCU!

The European Beer Consumers Union was established in 1990 so was due to celebrate its three decades in existence last year. But things being what they were, that was postponed to September 2021 and rather than standing about in a venue somewhere it happened on Zoom. To mark the occasion there was a beer box for guests with five examples to, if not represent at least nod to, beer diversity across Europe. London Pride (grand), La Trappe Tripel (lovely), Mariage Parfait (hello!) and two strangers.

First up is Reckendorfer Keller-Bier from Schlossbrauerei Reckendorf in Upper Franconia. It's an even 5% ABV and is darker than I would expect for the style, a definite browish-orange. There's not much of an aroma, just lagery grains with perhaps a touch of caramelised roast. The flavour is sweet too, though it's not as simple as caramel. There's a floral side, natural perfume leading to honey, though not heavily textured. Despite the murk it's all very clean, finishing quickly on wholesome brown bread and leaving no aftertaste, for extra drinkability. The soft and low carbonation helps that too. It's a subtle charmer this. I might prefer a bit more hop character but I like how it goes about its business. A clay mug and an actual keller would really improve it, I'd say.

From Spain (ish) comes Dark Way, an imperial stout by Espiga of Barcelona. It's a big beast at 10.5% ABV and has all the density to go with that, pouring a thick black with a shortlived dark tan head. The aroma is all tar and treacle, a sort of harshly dry sweetness, if that makes sense. The strength is very apparent in a nostril-burning waft on top of that. I get an unorthodox grain effect from the flavour: spelt, couscous and rye. It's very bitter with no lightening malty chocolate or coffee. There's a level of hopping just about discernable but it's a severe sort of vegetal bitterness which does nothing to lift the mood. This was hard to settle into. Big strong stout is very much my bag, but this one is how I'd imagine a brewer would create one without ever having tasted an example. Yes, it's dark and thick and boozy per the spec, but it doesn't go anywhere nice with that. I tried hard to like it but it's just not for me.

Is there a lesson here on the benefits of sticking to local beer styles rather than embarking on craft adventures? Probably not. I'm sure there are plenty of Catalan imperial stouts that I would actually enjoy. A big thanks to my EBCU colleagues for putting the set together, and here's to the next 30 31.

Well, Estonia when you're trying to be so good

It must be a hard life for Põhjala, out there in the world of craft beer, representing Estonia almost single-handedly. Still, even though they're about the only Estonian brewery one sees around the place, they generally make good beers and I was pleased to see them arriving into Ireland with a handful of new-to-me offerings.

The set begins with Prenzlauer Berg, described merely as "raspberry sour" but which I assume is their take on a Berliner weisse mit Schuss. I'm guessing they weren't thinking beyond the mass-market Berliner Kindl version because this is very plain fare. It's thin bodied even for a 4.5% ABV sour ale, and the raspberry syrup absolutely dominates the flavour, sweet and soft, covering almost all of the beer beneath. A faint dry graininess, just like Berliner Kindl Weisse has, is the only indication of beeriness, arriving very late in the process and I honestly can't detect anything I'd describe as sour. Full marks for stylistic accuracy, I guess, but few for making an enjoyable beer.

Staying (theoretically) sour, Orange Gose is next. I wouldn't have thought that the tall head is typical of gose, but then neither is orange. The label is one of those annoying ones with lots of languages but the full ingredients only in German. At least we get to know that there is salt and coriander in here, plus rye and orange. It's a pale shade of orange under the foam and the aroma is a strange sort of plasticky sweetness, meaning the fruit extract may not have been a great idea. But the flavour is clean nonetheless, and actually quite jolly. There's a decent poke of sourness all the way through, a little seasoning from the salt, and although it's dry there's nothing I would assign to the rye or coriander. And then there's a subtle note of orangeade right on the finish for a sunny, Aperol Spritz kind of vibe. 5.5% ABV is maybe a little on the high side for something so simple and easy-going, but that's a minor quibble. My faith in Põhjala's souring abilities is restored. So how about their hopping?

A New England IPA follows, by the name of Kosmos. 5.5% ABV again, which is weak for this sort of thing, and it's not really fully hazy, showing more of a witbier mistiness. Banging fresh hops in the aroma though, right? Right? Sorry princess, it smells quite savoury: an earthy mushroom funkiness with a splash of sesame oil. The flavour is a little sweeter but it never makes it as far as fleshy tropical fruit. Instead there's mild fruit candy up front before a garlicky finish and aftertaste which coats the palate unpleasantly. It's frustratingly close to the bouncy juicebomb I'm certain it was intended to be, but the magic is missing.

Would there be any magic in their double IPA? That's Albini, 8% ABV and brewed with Simcoe, Citra and HBC 630, an experimental variety that seems to be doing well on the hazy scene. And this one has "hazy" on the label but once again the beer is only just. There's a mix of summer berries in the aroma: strawberry and both black and maraschino cherry. That sweet red-cherry skin effect is central in the flavour, set on quite a hot base that gives it a cough medicine air -- not unpleasant but not what one expects from a hazy DIPA. The finish is all pink bubblegum for a different sort of intense stickiness. It's definitely unusual and my next question was whether or not I liked it. In the end I came down in favour. It's a sipper; its heat is more intense than even 8% ABV suggests, but if its treated more like a barley wine it works. Savour it slowly and let the flavours unfold. There's plenty to enjoy here once you've let go of any style-based expectations.

Põhjala is not a brewery for drinkers with style-based expectations. I feel they got lucky with both of their wins here. It was certainly an interesting set to work through, but I also think their imperial stouts are a safer bet, in general.

From the ocean to the mountains

It's all American and all IPA today, visiting a couple of well established breweries in California and Colorado.

We start at Bear Republic, and something that looks like a flagship though I had never seen it before: Bear Republic IPA. That said, the description mentions combining "the new IPA aesthetic with West Coast tradition" so I guess it's a recent addition to the range. It's 6% ABV and a translucent shade of orange, an appearance which does indeed suggest a middle ground between east and west. The aroma is all the latter, though: piney, with a sweeter toffee side. You do get a little juice in the flavour; a rush of tangerine right at the front, but which gives way quickly to the pine and toffee once more. It works, though. There's the full old-fashioned west-coast kick, bitter hops and sweet malt whooping it up together, and then the juice adds a nuanced complexity, smoothing out the harsh edges and making it generally easier to drink. This is west coast with training wheels; loud but calm. I enjoyed the effect, and that it only cost me €2.50.

Back in May I complained that Firestone Walker hadn't numbered the 17th Luponic Distortion. Luckily they hang on my every word and Luponic Distortion 18 has the number, faintly, on the can. As usual it's 5.9% ABV and this one seems a little paler than what went before. I thought it a bit plain at first: sugary malt and little else. It takes a second or two for the luponics to kick in. It's a green and weedy resinous quality, calling to mind nettles and rocket. This is very much a west coast vibe, squeaky clean and bitingly bitter under that initial sweetness. One for the purists, I think. If you reckon American IPAs have turned too fruity, this'll give you the appropriate grade of 1990s pucker.

We're off to Colorado for the next pair, and Left Hand Brewing, starting on Wook Bait. It's an IPA of 6% ABV brewed with Lotus, Galaxy and Azacca hops, though to a very modest 37 international bitterness units. For all that oomph it's a bit wan and watery-looking in the glass, a witbier-like hazy yellow. Despite it being a mountain brewery, I thought it was going east coast here, but it's no soft and fluffy juicer but actually quite malt based, with a core of sweet caramel only mildly troubled by Lilty tropicals. You get more of that grapefruit and pineapple in the aroma and a tiny bit in the aftertaste but otherwise it's toffee all the way. I checked the date and this should be good for another couple of months but I can't help thinking there were some fragile hop volatiles here which have disintegrated on the journey eastwards. Not what I want from an American IPA, regardless.

That had me slightly worried about the Found Fortune to come. This is a double IPA, 8.7% ABV and the shiny orange of classic American DIPA, the sort that tastes of slab toffee with chunks of lime peel studded through it. It's not quite one of those, though it's adjacent. The flavours are much more smoothly integrated in this one. It is hot though: a warmth with an almost coffee-like roast quality; wholesome and comforting. The hops add a sharp twist of orange peel and dandelion to this; a seasoning rather than the principal characteristic. Again, the hop enthusiast will be disappointed, and I was a little miffed by its lack of wallop, but there's a good beer here, one to be treated more as a sippable barley wine than a hopped up party animal.

And that concludes our journey. Some decent beers, I'll grant you, but Left Hand in particular left me wanting for that hop blast I look to '90s-vintage American breweries for. I don't think I can blame the haze craze so maybe I'll just blame the distance.

Last of the sunlight

The long balmy evenings are gone so I felt I was coming late to Lineman's Sundrops, a table beer of 3.3% ABV with doubtless a different context intended for drinking. It still worked on a dark autumnal evening. Though amber coloured and slightly hazy, it's delightfully clean and full-flavoured. Fruit candy hops sit on a crisply dry base, finishing with a pithy bitterness. I had to look at the label to learn that Nelson Sauvin was involved; it doesn't taste like a typical Nelson job, but perhaps has a little of its juicy grape qualities. I'm a bit suspicious of table beer as a style; too many sharp and watery saisons get given the label. This is much more of a happy pale ale sort of thing, and I honestly wouldn't have guessed the strength to be as low as it is. Sundrops is very pintable, very pubable, and well worth considering bringing back for the season next year.

Released at the same time was a double IPA called Transmission. I tend to trust Lineman to produce beers with a resolutely old-fashioned quality, and while this is no yellow New Englander, it is hazy, so we're not fully committed to the west coast. At 9.4% ABV it's not messing about, and there's a slick and heavy density to it, though no clumsy heat. The hops are a little muted, Simcoe, Azacca and Ekunot for a marmalade melange, a generalised bittersweet quality but without any distinguishing features. A little pith and a little mint? Perhaps, but you have to look for it. Really this is a warming sipper rather than a hop exhibition, meaning it probably is quite accurate as a retro double IPA. I think I expected more from it, but what's there is fine. If you want a local take on what the Americans used to send us, here it is.

Bringing up the rear, the latest Lineman offering to come my way is Fluid Dynamic, labelled as an "extra" pale ale. I'm not sure why. It's 4.8% ABV and, I guess, is extra pale -- a very bright shade of yellow, and almost completely clear with it. It actually looks unattractively watery. But while the texture is light it's certainly not watery and has plenty of character. There's a cleanly bitter lemon effect as the centrepiece backed by a balancing dry crunch of granola malt. It fades out on a double act of dark dank resins and bright candy flowers. I get overtones of those American-influenced British classics like Jarl and Jaipur. This is another super summery banger, even if they did leave the release date a little late for that. Let it bring a little sunshine into your winter.

Sterling work as ever from Lineman here. The commitment to tried and tested styles and methods really stands to them in the finished product.

Letting Whip

It's a neat little stash of Whiplash beers for clearance today.

A lager starts us off. Dawn Chorus is a Helles in the Munich style with Munich malt. The appearance is nearly perfect: a lovely rich golden with not a hint of haze about it, though the head isn't as tight as I'd like, fading a little quickly. The noble hops peep out in the aroma, bringing sweet leafy greens: spearmint and cress. Sweetness is a theme in the flavour too, where the herbs meet a light spongecake malt. Maybe a little too light, said he, looking for faults. It's 5.1% ABV but lacks heft; its easy-drinking texture aided by a low level of carbonation. That means it runs the risk of turning dull but avoids it with a fun finish where the sweetness concentrates into honey, seasoned with a peppery spice. Yum. Stylistically it's absolutely bang on: I can visualise downing litres of this in a Munich beer garden, and the smoothness is Augustiner-grade. It's still just a Helles though. It's the ultimate non-novelty style and one I don't have to pay almost a fiver for a good example. So a round of applause for the technical accomplishment but there's no need to make this a regular at this price point.

"Nelson forward" is a lovely way for a brewery to describe a beer so I was very much looking forward to cracking Close To Paradise, a 6.3% ABV New England IPA. And crack it I did. What came out was one of those super pale hazy IPAs, the unattractive opaque yellow of watery custard. Pith and diesel is the aroma; a bit weird but acceptably Nelsonish. Whiplash normally avoids the gritty, chalky effect in its IPA but I got some from this, which isn't good. That stands in the way of any fresh hop bang. The liquid fuel thing hangs around, as does the pith, but it doesn't have much else to say. No jarring off-flavours, which is a bonus, but I feel the Nelson needs a cleaner base to make the most of it. This combination didn't work for me.

The next combination is Cascade, Mosaic and Idaho 7, which all seems very reasonable. Walk The Night is another IPA, this one 6.6% ABV. Pale and hazy? But of course. There's a lovely sweet juiciness to the aroma but a less pleasant dry and gritty bite too. Thankfully that doesn't leak into either the flavour or the texture. It's smooth and creamy in a typical New England way, but it's not sweet. A mere pinch of vanilla in the foretaste is swiftly squashed by a citrus-rind bitterness, suggesting Cascade has the upper hand in this, and I don't have a problem with that. There's a softer peach-and-apricot element as well, and a substantial alcohol heat which helps put the brakes on quaffing it. It's good though: enough fuzz and freshness for the hazy crazies but with a nice old-school IPA element from the Cascade. Balance, I guess.

At the same strength but with Sultana and Amarillo is A Distance in You. This smells pithy and bitter which had me scrambling for information on Sultana's pedigree. Turns out it's a descendent of the classic American bittering hop Nugget, so that makes sense. There's a heavy texture here, and drinking involved dragging it out of the glass. Pith again, on a gritty, chalky base, for quite a rough and unfriendly approach. The finish is a little gentler, giving soft and oily orange skin and weedy resins. I'm no brewer, but I felt that this punchy bitter combination would have worked better in a clean and clear west coast IPA rather than a softie like this. Or maybe it's just not to my taste, but it's not to my taste.

I missed Space Operator on its first outing but the Whiplash gods are merciful and it came around again. It's an all-Idaho 7 IPA at 6.8% ABV and, oh look, an opaque yellow colour. The aroma is fresh and zesty with a very real mandarin peel vibe. That certain citric sharpness is the centrepiece of the flavour -- starting sweet, finishing bitter but all done indecently quickly. You get your squirt of zest, a flash of meringue and a tang of lime, and then you're finished in jig time. It's tasty but not very complex. I don't think I got value for the strength. Whiplash's expertise in the hazy IPA genre means I'm very forgiving when there are no jarring dodgy bits, but maybe I should be a little more critical. This is fine, far from unpleasant, but not very exciting. €5.50 and 6.8% ABV should entitle me to some excitement.

Time was, it seemed like 8% ABV double IPAs were all that Whiplash turned out. Things have become more varied since, but they're back on familiar ground with Doom City, one brewed with Vic Secret and Motueka, neither of them happy, easy-going hops. I wasn't too happy either with the waves of white plaster dust cascading down the inside of my glass as I poured. This is hazy to begin with, plus extra haze secreted at the bottom of the can. It settled to a pale lemon yellow topped by a fluffy but short-lived head. Vic Secret's trademark aniseed is there in the aroma while the foretaste is a strangely crisp, almost lagery, grassy quality, set on a smooth white-bread base. A murky double IPA that tastes like a Helles is weird, but fun. A citric sweetness arrives late, like a bitter-lemon mixer. Those looking for a big DIPA hop blast may be disappointed but I like the mature subtlety of this. It's also interesting how a beer can pour looking like utter filth but still taste perfectly clean. Haze is a strange country.

Finally, a triple IPA which has to tell you It's No Spirit. Well it doesn't look like one, pouring a mucky yellow with once more a dismaying amount of clumpy gunk transferring from can to glass. Still it smells clean, with freshly tropical Amarillo meeting juicily grapeish Nelson Sauvin. The texture is New-England thick; not cloying but smooth and gently fuzzy. 10.5% ABV is deftly concealed; there's no palate burn up front nor warming afterglow typical of hazy TIPAs at this strength. I suspect the hops might have something to do with that. As in the aroma, their flavours are clean and distinct. I get aniseed, mango, pineapple and gooseberry, finishing on sweet sultanas and desiccated coconut. Exploiting that got me through the 440ml at speed, with no time for relaxed sipping, which is what it deserves. I've never before met a super-strong IPA that made we want to crack a second can immediately afterwards, but that's another first for Whiplash.

Some absolute gold in this lot, but a couple of instances of chalky grit making itself felt amongst the haze. I hope that doesn't become a habit.

Herbs and spices

Hops are over-rated. Did you know they're not even native to Ireland? Disgraceful that they're even allowed. Today's beers are from two breweries determined to do things a more traditional way.

OK, fine, ginger isn't native to Ireland either. I'm intrigued by Zingibeer on a number of levels. For one, it's that rarely-produced style: proper ginger beer, with minimal malt involved, just sugar, water, yeast and spices. For another it's from Persistence, a brand that hitherto has only produced pintable pub beers in orthodox styles, mainly sold at a cluster of scenester bars in Dublin's south city centre. This is the first bottled offering and very much not what they normally do. No provenance is given so I don't know if this came from their usual host brewery JJ's.

The product is 4% ABV and silver-coloured, pouring with plenty of fizz and an absence of head, which begs for ice-and-a-slice to take the bare look off. There's a pleasing savoury botanical aroma, suggesting rosemary and sage to me. It's predominantly sweet but not excessively so and there's a decent amount of substance to the body: it does feel like a beer, albeit a very highly carbonated one. I think it could have done with more ginger as the spicing is a little muted to my taste, the buzz only really arriving late, with no accompanying burn. Before that, the herbs are busy, creating more of that savoury roast-dinner effect. I'm quite partial to the occasional roast dinner. The sugary aftertaste is where it resembles your more standard ginger ale mixer. It's a bit of fun, and does fill a gap in the market. It's not a beer for pinting through, however. Half a litre on a warm evening was plenty.

Beoir Chorca Duibhne has used botanicals from the brewery garden in All Seasons. This gruit contains gorse, dandelion, dock, primrose, yarrow and, oh... hops. Oh well. It took an age to pour from the 75cl bottle due to the masses of off white foam forming on top of a dark red-brown body. It smells sweet and wholesome,  freshly baked bread combining with oily and nutritious greens. I was expecting a heavy and sweet flavour to go with that but it's surprisingly light and clean; pleasingly so. A crisp fizz and no dark malt character makes it seem almost lager-like. I wasn't able to pick out any specific herb flavours, and I thought gorse's coconut would be the easiest to spot. Instead there's just a general sense of botanicals set against a dry background, a little like a vermouth without the wine character. I wouldn't have minded a little more flavour intensity, but I still really liked this. At only 5.5% ABV it manages to offer an excellent refreshment factor alongside the subtle gruit complexity. Nicely done.

It's easy to complain that everything is a hazy IPA these days, but there has been some very interesting and diverse stuff coming out of Irish breweries lately. I'll be writing about what I've found in due course. Plus a load of hazy IPAs from Whiplash, obvs.

Tall, dark and fizzy

The frosted black 75cl bottle is stately, and the name "Abbaye de Vauclair Imperiale" very grand. The wording beneath reading "French lager with orange peel" lets the side down a little, however, and we won't mention that it was purchased in Lidl for pocket change.

Its appearance poured lives up to that of an orangey lager: it's clear and fizzy, with an amber tint. Mind you, it is 7.5% ABV so a certain level of colour depth is to be expected. The aroma is clean and crisp with a hint of oily concentrated orange. Clean and crisp continues in the flavour, barely troubled by the orange and with the tiniest hint of raspberry and cherry, like pink bubbly. It was my first beer on a Friday evening and did a great job of washing the week's stresses out of my parched gob. There is very little sign of the hefty alcohol, something that should have been particularly problematic in a lager but -- hooray! -- wasn't.

I have a lot of time for this. I hadn't seen it before and supply may be limited, but I reckon it could serve a multitude of purposes: as a food accompaniment, a summery lager, birthdays, weddings, bar mitzvahs, whatever. Despite the imposing presentation it's not to be taken seriously. Just enjoy.

Gän-stal style!

I've been chasing the goose ever since I discovered Gänstaller's magnificent smoky masterpiece Affumicator in 2009. None of their other beers have quite lived up to it, but I was still delighted to see a selection of their cans landing in locally. Let's see what we have here.

First it's Gänstaller Helles. This looked to be a little dark for the style as I poured it, but in the glass it's a gorgeous rich, almost glowing, golden. Biscuits and bread for an aroma is par for the course and you have to wait for hops. They arrived in the flavour, bringing quite an assertive bitterness: boiled spinach, crisp sprouts and shredded red cabbage. Three of your five a day. The malt side is crisp too, bread crust rather than crumb, something I associate more with pilsner than Helles, but maybe that's just me. The texture is still appropriately soft even if the bitterness puts an unexpected edge on it. A dry and slightly metallic finish closes proceedings. I emptied my glass in pretty quick time while writing this, and I think that's the beer's main feature and raison d'être: you're meant to quaff it and order another, not write notes. Bigger cans, please, Mr Gänstaller.

Stronger and hazier is Gänstaller Zoigl. Not a real Zoigl, of course, but an "homage" to the beer culture of the Oberpfalz. It's a nicer word than rip-off. The flavour has a fuzziness to match the appearance and there's a sharp bitterness, similar to the Helles but more severe; waxy and earthy. What you get is your hop-forward pale lager but very much minus the clean crispness, which for me is a lot of the point. Were I drinking this at the source, poured from an heirloom wooden barrel by the brewer at a barely-commercial inn, I'm sure I'd have sung its praises, but a 440ml can in a Dublin backyard makes me feel less charitable. It's a rough and dirty lager. If that's how you like it, I won't judge you, but I generally prefer something more precise.

I couldn't figure out why the brewery had named its weissbier, Smaragdweiß, after a kind of conifer. It turns out that this is in the hopfenweiss style so maybe it's a gentle dig at what they think new-world hops taste like. Not that it's particularly hoppy. The aroma is a green-banana sharpness which perhaps suggests extra bittering but is still well within the parameters of standard weissbier. The appearance is not, however: it's clear of body and thin of head. What's going on? Bavarian weissbier tends to be richer and fruitier than northern knock-offs but this tastes altogether more Prussian than the norm, with a dry grainy rasp next to the banana and an abrupt finish. There's a resinous extra hop kick, but I would be surprised if they used any American varieties as it's much more grass than grapefruit. It's fine but nothing special and doesn't offer anything that the big names of Bavarian weissbier don't do better.

My quest for something as good as Affumicator continues. Actually, maybe the Irish importer would consider getting hold of a few cans of that?

Back to the pub

Normality comes dropping slow. I haven't exactly been rushing back to the pub since they began re-opening, though it's been nice to return to The Porterhouse and 57 the Headline on occasion. One evening in late August I found myself in one of my locals for the first time in a couple of years, and got a bit of a look at the post-pandemic landscape of normal pubs.

I had seen branding for Madrí Excepcional in a few places around town. This Spanish lager has been newly introduced by Molson Coors, perhaps to add a classy side to their portfolio which neither Molson Canadian nor Archway was giving them. Interestingly, it's presented as a "collaboration" with the parent brewery LA SAGRA (why the shouting?), suggesting it's not actually brewed there.

What do you get if the branding appeals and you order a pint? It's clear and an appropriately rich golden colour, so full marks for the visuals. Less so for the taste: I got a substantial whack of diacetyl from this, the buttery taste matched with a slick and greasy texture. And that's pretty much it: there's a lightly crisp biscuity malt base but no hop character to speak of. I'm not especially diacetyl-averse so I wouldn't consider this spoiled, but it's not impressive. If it makes you feel part of a more Mediterranean drinking culture, then I wish you the joy of that, but I can't think of any other reason to buy it.

And then there's Island's Edge. There has been much online commentary about this new stout from Heineken — the company which already brews two of Ireland's three biggest-selling stouts — from the name which clearly came from a very short brainstorming session where "Rockshore" was written on the whiteboard, to the downright offensive claim that the stout sector in Ireland is stagnant and un-innovative. The supposed innovation here comes from the inclusion of basil and tea in the recipe. Heineken had a shortlived tea-flavoured stout on the market a couple of years ago — Kettle Brew — but it disappeared before I got the chance to try it. I guess this is the next phase in that project. So what's it like?

Well, first of all it's a nitrokeg stout, and only 4% ABV so I wasn't expecting a wow-factor from the taste. The brewery has stated that it wants to attract new drinkers by dialling back the bitterness, and that made it extra unlikely that we would end up as friends. There is a pleasant creamy chocolate element here, and the novel ingredients are manifest as a kind of dry leafiness. It seems that when you combine black tea and basil you end up with something that tastes of green tea, which probably shouldn't be surprising. This builds to become a concentrated cabbage effect by the end. It's not a good stout. Although it isn't thin, and it's bland enough so that the odd flavours aren't jarring, it's missing the elements that make session stout worthwhile. No roast, no bitterness; no point, frankly. As with a lot of new-release industrial beers I can see it being a distress purchase for me for a while, until the novelty wears off, if it lasts that long. I don't see what it offers drinkers of the established big stout brands, or the stout-curious, however. 

And that's why I tend to stick to the pubs where they serve the beer I like.

Nicely toasted

I'm wondering if I've misunderstood the remit of the Curious Society project. I had thought they were intended as accessible beers for normal people, but the last one, a double IPA, raised an eyebrow, and now a toasted coconut stout at 8% ABV has caused the other one to go up too. Maybe the Curious Society tribe has been convinced to be more adventurous. Or maybe the brewers are bored. Either way, I like a big stout so in I go.

Coco looks very handsome in the glass, a properly dense black with a properly thick pillow of head. The coconut keeps its powder dry in the aroma and instead you get quite standard notes of chocolate and espresso. Nothing wrong with that. Oily coconut flesh sambas right to the centre on tasting, making the Bounty bar comparison irresistible. There's a creamy density to go with this, entirely in keeping with the strength, and a perfect balancing roast bitterness on the end. All is harmonious, integrated and complementary, with no silly tricks or extreme manoeuvres. 

Perhaps I should adjust my surprise. While this is not a run-of-the-mill stout stout, it's no daft novelty either, nor in any way challenging. It is exceptionally well made, the ingredients balanced and the flavour journey conducted at a leisurely pace. Anyone even vaguely interested in Level 2 of craft beer will do well with it.

Where do they all come from?

The downside of being a DOT beer drinker is that you really need to keep your stash under control. This one ended up taking over most of the fridge before I set aside the time to enjoy them. I've done that daft thing of turning my leisure activity into a chore. So... what's in there?

We start very small with Good Behaviour, an IPA at a teeny tiny 2.5% ABV. Vic Secret and Citra give it quite an assertive aroma, with lime marmalade and matchhead spicing in the mix. Oats are used too, presumably to bulk out the body but I don't think it quite works: it's still very thinly textured. Luckily the flavour is bold enough to compensate, turning the wateriness to an acceptable, refreshing, quaffable character. Said flavour begins sweet and tropical, and I get mango in particular from it. I would have liked that to continue but it decides to take a sudden and sharp turn towards bitterness and ends up a little harsh. It's not one to sit about crying over, however. There's plenty of hop buzz to enjoy, and then it's gone and no harm done.

Before that landed, the record for DOT's weakest was held by Martin's Micro IPA created for Martin's Off Licence in Fairview, one of DOT's many frequent collaborators. This one is 2.6% ABV and is a happy white-gold colour. Nothing small about the aroma, however: it's bright and tropical, suggesting all the joy of pineapple and passionfruit to come. But come it does not. The flavour is plain to the point of non-existent; fizzy water with very little on top. A tiny pinch of metallic bitterness on the end? Maybe, but I had to work hard to find it. I'm all in favour of the low-strength genre -- plenty of breweries do great work in this space and I know from the above that DOT can too. But while inoffensive, this beer is not a good example of what's possible, certainly when compared to Good Behaviour.

The theme continues somewhat with High Note, claiming to be a full-size session IPA though with only 3.5% ABV. In the glass it's a sickly shade of pale yellow, misted with some half-hearted murk. Things pick up in the aroma which is fresh and peachy with a light spritz of citrus zest. While nowhere near as watery as the above, it's still slightly unpleasantly thin. Turns out that oats don't magically create body in a low-gravity ale. Vic Secret is one of the principal hops, and there's an enjoyable herbal bitterness stemming from that but not a whole lot else going on here. Once again, the aroma is a triumph but the rest just seems compromised. I have a feeling that, with occasional exceptions, this genre doesn't suit DOT particularly well. 

To Blackrock next, and the second batch of Joël's Gold Blend, the tea-infused pale ale blended with stock that's been aged in French wine barrels. I really liked last year's and am happy to report that its intrinsic character hasn't changed much this time around. There's still that beautiful mix of ripe white grapes, cool refreshing tea and a seasoning of oaky spice. Between the fruit and the vanillin, it veers towards turning too sweet, but the tea does a fantastic job of pulling it back. While not quite an easy-quaffing thirst-quencher (it is only 4.6% ABV) it offers an accessible sort of complexity that I really enjoyed. DOT seems to have cornered the market in barrel-aged pale ales, as we move on to...

The next collaborator, another of DOT's regulars, is Teeling Whiskey, and it's another barrel-aged pale ale, this one called Sunshine In The City. The misshapen can is my own fault; it was entirely normal when I bought it at the distillery and then I dropped it. That said, there's plenty of carbonation in this 5.6%-er. It literally crackled in the glass the whole way through. I get a subtle pear and lychee effect from the aroma while the flavour is white grape and gooseberry, finishing on a sweeter clove-rock stickiness. It's all done with bourbon barrels, it seems, and frankly it makes better use of them than all those vanilla-laden imperial stouts. The fizz in this is definitely overdone, however: a busy champagne sparkle that I found interfered with the fruit fun a little too much. Letting that subside, I found a happy, approachable-yet-complex pale ale, and one that does something different with barrels compared to most breweries.

DOT's collaborations with Redmond's of Ranelagh have yielded some absolute gold over the years. I'm a fan of Tokaji wine, too, so when I saw that the latest was Barrel Aged Tokaji Pale I was very keen to try it. It's only 5.6% ABV and quite a pale yellow shade. From the high-filled can it frothed out enthusiastically, making pouring a bit of a chore. On the nose: nothing special, some happy citrus and stonefruit but nothing to suggest wine-barrel action. It's no palate-pounder, instead showing gentle notes of pear and lychee on a clean and sorbet-like base. I don't get any of the sticky-sweet honey taste of Tokaji but don't mind its absence. What's there is light and deliciously refreshing while still extremely flavourful. Another top-class Redmond's/DOT two-hander, then.

Craft Central is not being left out of the Cool Offies' Club. For it, DOT has created Central Station, a pale ale but a big 'un at 7.8% ABV. Armagnac barrels became Single Malt barrels became beer barrels but their contribution is subtle in the end, and this is still very much a hop-forward beer. At the centre of the flavour is a spritzy citric sweetness, reminding me of Loop-the-Loop ice lollies more than anything. The texture is light and summery, making for a dangerous sort of cleansing refreshment, given the strength. The sharp and sappy oak effect is pretty much limited to the aroma, and it smells a lot like a whiskey sour. Actually, a hybrid of whiskey cocktail and American-style pale ale is a pretty succinct way of describing this. And that may sound busy and a bit overblown but it's straightforward, flavourful and enjoyable on whichever level you take it.

There's one more Blackrock Cellar special to come: Taking Liberties, a red ale aged in peated whiskey casks from Teeling's. This poured thickly, refecting the 7.9% ABV, and settled almost like it was nitrogenated, a thick off-white foam over a dark brown body. It goes very much for the straight malt character: big and rich and wintery-warming. There's a tiny tang of barrel-derived acidity and the faintest wisp of peaty iodine but it's all kept on the down-low, a subtle seasoning rather than a blast of whiskey. What's left is a comforting sipper, hiding its big alcohol well and offering lots of sumptuous chocolate, coffee and brown sugar.

We step away from the barrels for a couple of moments, to go back on the straight-up IPAs. Heading West gets us going, a classic west coaster at a modest 5.4% ABV. "Classic" here means Cascade, Centennial and Citra hops, as well as an amber-coloured body from Vienna malt. There's a palate-sharpening grapefruit aroma right from can-pop, and lots of foam too, making me glad of my oversized glass. It's very well balanced in the flavour. A big and pillowy texture carries medium-sweet caramel and fudge qualities which provides a perfect foil to the hops' citric bite. It's not sharp and punchy, as some of these can be, but smooth and gentle while retaining the classic characteristics of American pale ale. I found myself thinking of it as a softer take on Sierra Nevada's iconic flagship, something I would be very happy to see more of.

A double IPA named Calling All welcomes us to the upper reaches, at an even 8% ABV. Vermont ale yeast is billed on the can which had me lazily expecting a yellow emulsion but it's only slightly hazy and very much orange coloured. There's a sweet tropical candy aroma, thanks no doubt to all that malt, in conjunction with Mosaic, Citra and BRU-1 hops. I think I would place this closer to the old fashioned American double IPAs rather than any new-fangled juice. It's not bitter, sure, but neither were the old guard, solely: they had a big caramel sweetness supposedly balancing the daft macho hops. This is an altogether more mature and nuanced take on that. The hops bring a distinct zesty spritz, mostly sweet and tropical with just an edge of Citra's citrus. This sits on a soft bed of marmalade and candyfloss: all nicely warming and comfortable. It's a gentle sort of DIPA, no audacious claims or sensory extremes, so the hazebois might be disgruntled, but that just makes it taste better.

Our first barrel-aged big-boy is Two Rights Dont Equal A Left, described by the brewer as "a barrel aged sour, aged in PX sherry and bourbon for 12 months" and by me as a dull-looking, dun-coloured affair, smelling of sweet fruit salad with a sharper acidity behind. There is zero indication that it's 8.2% ABV but it is. It's dangerously smooth and refreshing, and I was a couple of mouthfuls in before remembering the wallop it packs. The flavour, which by rights should be roaring with whiskey, sherry and vanilla, is actually a clean blend of pear slices, lime juice, mandarin segments and champagne toast. 440ml went indecently fast. I'm not sure whether to love this or disapprove of it, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time drinking it.

The penultimate is version VI of Rum Red Dark. I reviewed VII back in June but VI was largely shipped to the Netherlands except for a small quantity which Yards & Crafts got hold of and sold on, so I have them to thank for letting me fill the gap. As with all the recent iterations they've used Teeling's peated whiskey barrels for some of the blended constituent beers and it's very apparent from both the aroma and flavour. It's a sweet sort of smoke, the peat mixed with warming toffee and caramelised sugar. Its body is surprisingly light for 8.6% ABV though the quite intense flavour means it's no easy-drinker. You need to really like that peat smoke taste to enjoy it. I think I'd prefer it if it were richer and heavier with more malt to bring the smoke into balance.

Finishing the set, and also the latest DOT beer to come my way, is Kiss of a Barrel -- not DOT's first double IPA but I can't think of another that's been barrel aged. At 9% ABV we have a bit of a bruiser on our hands. It looks hefty: a deep orange-red colour, and barely translucent with it. It smells heavy and boozy and sweaty and loud, with a concentrated clove-rock spiced sweetness, plus sticky toffee and one of those oozy antisocial cheeses. That's a lot from a mere noseful. There's a fruity side to the flavour, a sharply autumnal damson and blackberry effect, leading on to a dry splintery wood tang. That cheesey funk shows up again in the aftertaste. This is a beer to be taken seriously and taken slowly. The various characteristics just about hold together into a single entity without clashing too much with each other. It took me a while to decide if I like it or not, and in conclusion I think I respect the wallop but the tangy sweaty thing is a deal-breaker. I can't say it's flawed, but it's missing the good points of double IPA and of strong darkish barrel-aged beer. 

That's probably enough DOT produce for today. My main question at the end of the thirteen is: wot no stout?

See how they brew too

We've come to the end of my summer holiday blog posts. Not before time, given that it's October and time to start planning that mid-term break. I'm finishing up with a visit to two of Amsterdam's breweries, both new ground for me.

The first I'm a little dubious about. There is nothing written that I could find that says Lion's Head doesn't brew on site, but this South African theme restaurant in the Oude Pijp keeps its brewkit well out of sight of enquiring beer geeks and had nothing by way of point-of-sale material about house beers, which most brew-restaurants would promote mercilessly as their selling point. I'm not saying that they're hiding their beer's real provenance, but they're doing the same things that fake brewpubs do when they hide theirs.

Anyway: the beers. Only two house beers were on when I visited, though the balance of styles was good. To the left, Watermelon Wheat, that near cliché of daft craft. I was hoping for light and summery refreshment but it's a bit of a bruiser, 5% ABV and very sweet. The aroma is of boiled sweets and only watermelon in the estery Jolly Rancher way. That gets a little more realistic on tasting but still very sweet and with lots of fizz instead of wheaty softness. It hits the novelty mark bang on, so I can't ding it for stylistic accuracy, but I guess I have different personal standards for watermelon wheat beer as this didn't do it for me.

The other beer was a Dark Lager, and a big fellow at 6.5% ABV according to the server. It arrived a murky brown colour with a light coffee and liquorice aroma, so perhaps Baltic porter would have been a more suitable designation. No matter. There was a lovely crisp and fizzy foretaste with well-done toast in the middle and a precisely clean finish. No silly tricks here: it's palate-cleansing and simple, with enough toasty-roasty character to be distinctive. Perfect brewpub material, designed for gulpable serving sizes.

The other brewery was rather more production-oriented. Butcher's Tears is to the south-west of the city centre, near the old Olympic Stadium. Next to the small production brewery (a proportion of their beer is still contract brewed in Belgium) there's a sparse taproom with some outdoor seating. It being a Sunday afternoon, I was able to summon up Ron Pattinson for some company. Amsterdam's great like that.

My first pick from the menu was a mild, of all things: The Dark Possession. It's not of the typical modern English variety, being 5% ABV and quite a pale ochre-brown colour. The texture is thin and while there's a pleasant chocolate taste at its core, there's a sharp and mucky homebrew-ish quality around it that I didn't care for. Not the mild I'm looking for.

A double brown stout of 7.5% ABV is more like it, and that's the one on the left. Headroom has a delicious aroma of rosewater so I was surprised by the intense bitterness, with very serious notes of smoke and iodine. Then there's dark chocolate, espresso and green beans for even more kinds of bitterness. It's all the big stout characteristics all at once. My preference in this line is for something mellower, though I tip my hat to the insane multidimensional complexity on show here.

I got something calmer next: Sucker, described as a "wild session ale" and only 4.5% ABV. Golden-coloured, it's quite watery, which was fine by me at that point. There's a mildly funky quality and some gummy Bretty peach, all set on crunchy brown breadcrust. I needed the palate cleanser, though had begun finding it a little plain and boring by the end.

Not plain and boring is the darker beer beside it: Chrysippus Lowlands. Chrysippus is a strong IPA and this version has been aged in a Scottish whisky barrel resulting in an 8.5% ABV double IPA. It smells like a vodka and orange: very sweet and a little cloying, in quite a '70s or '80s way. The mango and pineapple which came next was much more modern, however. The spirit heat is mercifully minimal, with a long aftertaste that's still sweet but not difficult. It's a balanced sort of whisky-aged double IPA.

Having danced with mild and brown stout, we may as well hit up another retro British style: Burton ale. Aruspex is a peated Burton, which I'm sure is not typical of how this strong and wintery ale was brewed way back when. It's 8% ABV and shows a lovely mix of kippers and toffee in the flavour, backed by a warming peat fire. There's a touch of vestigial vegetal hops as a nod to authenticity. I thought it was rather fun overall, if a bit silly. Ideal cold-weather drinking, though, as Burton should be.

But it's palate cleansing time again, and that brought Animal Space, described as a "wit saison": the ultimate in deciding the style after you've brewed the beer, I guess. It really does do both, as advertised, however: the clean peppery spice of a saison with the citrus zest of a witbier. There's a tiny touch of witbier's downfall soapiness, but nothing too unpleasant. I'm deeming wit saison an acceptable new style, at least when it's presented in this best-of-both-worlds way.

I spotted an interloper in the taproom fridge, a beer I didn't even know had been distributed commercially. A couple of years ago, Ron had assisted Goose Island of Chicago in producing as authentic a 19th century English porter as possible. The result is called Obadiah Poundage. With a nod to the company I was in, Butcher's Tears very kindly gave me the bottle for free. It's 6.3% ABV and the first thing I noticed was a surprisingly wine-like aroma. This unfolded on tasting into a brisk tartness, almost like a Belgian oude bruin, blending coffee with cherry. Ron looked confused when I said this but confirmed it with his own tasting, so it seems three years in the bottle has changed old Obadiah somewhat. As it is now, it represents a half-way point between dark and sour Belgian beer and big roasty porter, with a peppery spice belonging to neither and both. It's a pleasant space to occupy, and while this is not a revelatory beer, it is quite nice. And that's all porter needs to be.

We were homeward bound not long after that, glad to have been out in the world once more. The next flights are already booked.