Bock on the clock

Asahi-owned Dutch giant Grolsch seems to be putting a particular effort into making autumn bock season its thing. On my way across the Netherlands and back last month I found three different releases from them in the seasonal style.

Your basic model is Rijke Herfstbok. The name claims it's rich, but I think that's an overstatement. At 6.6% ABV one can reasonably expect it to be, but I found it rather simple, almost verging on bland. It's the proper brown-maroon colour and despite a flavour that accentuates sweet caramel it's still very clean and lagery. There's a touch of tea and fruitcake by way of complexity, but none of the liquorice bitterness which I think helps balance the dark sugar in beers like this. I can see how something so straightforward and unchallenging would be welcomed at the appropriate time each year; it's a beer of easy and comforting familiarity, even when trying it for the first time.

But if you do want something a little different, but not too much, Grolsch offers Gerijpte Herfstbok: a "ripened" version, aged a year prior to release. From tasting, it's obvious why they do it because you get a lot of extra complexity for your patience. The tea tannins round out into something more like an oaky red wine, with the formerly prominent sugar relegated to a supporting role. Again it's not complex or busy, but it's still highly enjoyable for all that.

Bock was brought into the Dutch brewing vernacular by Bavarian brewers and perhaps it's a nod to them that there's also a Grolsch Dunkel Weizenbock. In keeping with the local theme, this is red unlike German weizenbock, though similarly strong at 7.3% ABV. It's cloudy too, and has a thick milkshake mouthfeel. The red flavours of normal autumn bock are presented here as strawberry and raspberry candy, with a hint of coconut and a seam of banana. A surprise note of tropical breakfast juice finishes things off. Whereas bock is necessarily mellow and warming, this is much more sunny and frivolous. I enjoyed it, and would be perfectly happy to see it in circulation year-round.

Three for three on the bock front for Grolsch, then. Here's your regular reminder that large multinational breweries are capable of making very good beer, especially when local tastes demand them.

I haven't quite finished with bock for now, but to wrap up the travel, yesterday's post left off in Amsterdam on Sunday evening. I decided to treat myself on Monday to a day with no plans. I ended up strolling west along the IJ, to the brewery which shares its name. The taproom was doing a brisk afternoon trade, and there was one unfamiliar beer in the line-up: Chinook Crimson Ale.

Despite the name it's orange rather than red, and there's a bitterness in the foretaste that says IPA more than amber ale to me. It settles after a sip or two, however. There's cherries and berries in the malt sweetness and a tannic rasp for balance. That all makes it just fruity enough to pass as a red ale, without any of the stickiness or blandness that tarnishes red's reputation. A sizeable 6% ABV helps there too. 't IJ still does its best work in the broadly Belgian genres, but I give this Americanised effort a pass.

My tram back passed by a newer branch of the Gollem chain and I hopped off for a nosy. Unlike the original it's a bright and spacious bar, lit by its large windows, though not lacking in charm. They've called it "Gollem Craft Beers" suggesting they're actually courting customers like me rather than picking them up by accident.

You don't see a lot of Portuguese craft beer in northern Europe so I availed of the opportunity to try a couple from Cerveja Musa of Lisbon. The first was an American IPA called Born in the USA. There's not much of a nod to authenticity here as it's only 5.5% ABV. A nasty oniony sharpness gets it off to a bad start from which it never really recovers. I'm not sure which coast its supposedly operating from: it shows both a soft tropical fruit middle and then a hard dry finish. None of these would be a deal-breaker by itself but the flavour doesn't hold itself together, trying to be too many different things. There was a time when this was how all European breweries interpreted American IPA but we're past that now, and this should be too.

I figured I would be on safer ground with something strong and dark. Step forward Baltic Sabbath \m/. This is a none-more-black Baltic porter of 7.9% ABV which smells rich and bitter, of dark chocolate and burnt toast. The flavour pulls a bit of a switcheroo, turning sweeter, with big dollops of caramel and treacle, with the creamy smoothness of a big stout in place of the angular crispness of typical Baltic porter. My expectations were confounded, but to hell with my expectations: this is an excellent beer, and a very satisfying one to drink.

Feeling the need for more big stout (when do I not?) I turned back to those Flying Dutchmen from Finland. They have an 8%-er with the terrible name of Flying Dutchman More Complicated Than Your Girlfriend Stout. It was the Mother-in-Law back in Zwolle -- knock it off, lads. This starts with a gorgeous liquorice aroma while the flavour starts roasty before opening into purple flowers, pithy citrus and a tarry finish. In fairness to the name, it does have a certain truth to it: the complexity here is substantial, and there are points on the journey where this seems more like a black IPA than a stout -- something very much in its favour. Naff name aside, this is exemplary.

There was one last Flying Dutchman to be had on my way to the airport, calling in at The Hague, and a couple of beers at Rootz. Beast of the East the Bear is There (what?) is an imperial stout. This offers two kinds of bitterness in the foretaste: roasty and herbal. Then it turns suddenly very sweet with vanilla and cocoa before a floral fade-out leading to a chocolate aftertaste. I detected mild, but not overdone, pastry vibes, and it's all rather jolly. I didn't realise until afterwards just how convoluted it is, brewed with cocoa, vanilla, cinnamon, oak chips and chilli. I feel robbed of the last of these in particular. Still, I enjoyed it so can't complain.

One last bock for the road? Why not. I'm guessing that La Chouffe produces Chouffe Bok 6666 specifically for the Dutch market this time of year. It's very much in the Dutch mould, 6.7% ABV, rounding up, with a caramel base and then more fruit than most: raspberry, redcurrant, raisin and strawberry all came to my attention. Although I suspect it's warm fermented, there's a pleasing cleanness which keeps it easy to drink, and I think I caught a pinch of the La Chouffe signature white pepper spice as well. I'm not going to say it's better than Grolsch's offering, but it's a worthwhile variation on the style.

Lunch on the hoof was a burger at the Burgerbar chain which has Burgerbar Weizen as its house beer. It's pretty poor, though on an impressively end-to-end basis. That begins with a flat and lifeless pour producing a wan and watery-looking yellow glassful. It smells of banana candy though the foretaste is harsh unripe banana, then a growing sweetness as it warms, introducing bubblegum and toffee. Whoever brewed this hasn't quite got the hang of weissbier; and whoever picked it for the restaurant mustn't have ever paired it with a burger. At least the burger itself was good.

With time for one last beer I decided I would drop down to cosy old Hoppzak to see what The Hague's finest had pouring. Alas, when I got there Hoppzak was closed, and with no time for anything more ambitious I ended up next door in what used to be The Shelby Public House but seems have have undergone a legally mandated rebrand and is now The Sixpence. There's still a big painting of Cillian Murphy in a flatcap on the wall, mind. A pint of the house beer was sufficient to kill half an hour. I don't know who brews Sixpence Pilsner, though it did appear to come from a Czech-style tank rather than keg. It's in the broadly Czech style too, thickly textured with a smooth golden syrup quality. Some grassy Saaz would have gone nicely with that, but there's basically no hop character. It's a bland and inoffensive lager, and maybe I had had enough flavour excitement to do me a while by this stage.

My next beer was at home.