Otter and colder

Dec's been busy. Despite the time required by mixed fermentation, barrel-ageing and whatnot, there's a bunch of new Otterbank beers for me to catch up with. Let's see how they've got on.

First though, it's the latest in Otterbank's Mates Rates series, brewed at Third Barrel, this time with the Falconers Flight hop blend. As usual it's a tart session IPA of 4.9% ABV, and misty blonde in colour. The aroma is vaguely citric but not very exciting. There's rather more excitement in the flavour, bringing one on a tour of new-world features, including lime peel, lemon sherbet, fried onion, dank resins and ripe mango. The effect is made all the clearer by the tightly tart base, a sourness that serves the hops, rather than being sour in its own right. It all works very well, nicely complex while still light and sessionable.

I think Sour for Sibling is the first Third-Barrel-brewed can outside of the Mates Rates series. It's a kettle-soured pale ale with added mango and passionfruit, so perhaps better suited to high summer than the depths of winter. I'm literally drinking it by the fire as I write this. The passionfruit is very apparent from the aroma, delivering a blast of pure and cool tropicality from the get-go. It's quite plain on tasting, with only a mild acidity and quite a low level of carbonation. It's 4.9% ABV again so is a little too heavy to get away with being a quaff-and-go thirst quencher. Still, there's a decent dose of passionfruit in the flavour, closer to the level of a juice drink than a beer. Overall, there's a certain echo of YellowBelly's revered Castaway from days gone by, but it lacks its depth and kick. Perhaps that's the difference between kettle souring and mixed fermentation. This is fine when you need a few drops of sunshine on a dismal day, just don't expect too much of an adventure from it.

Now we get to the real stuff: the bottled beers created at Otterbank HQ in Donegal using the full array of microbial weaponry at its disposal. First today it's a respectful tribute to gueze called Ode To Brussels. At 6.5% ABV it's on the strong side, though is surprisingly pale, with just a modicum of haze and a superbly resilient head of fine bubbles. Gunpowder spicing on the nose: check. Lemon zest meets old oak in the flavour: check. Waxy bitter finish: also check. This is a convincing analogue. I don't think I can ding it on accuracy; only on personal taste. It's a little too heavy and thick for my liking, with a kind of brown-sugar faro sweetness which interrupts the sour and spicy fun. I've definitely tasted real geuze like this but they're not my favourites. Still, full credit for the mimicry, and it's also a highly enjoyable and complex beer.

That's followed by Thanks, Julius & Lars, a tribute to Julius Simonaitis and Lars Marius Garshol for their work classifying Lithuanian farmhouse yeasts, one of which is of course used here. It's a whopping 8.1% ABV and pours a rose-gold colour with a bit of murk still floating in there, but mostly clean. Tastewise it's not a million miles from Flemish oud bruin. There's that slightly fruity vinegar effect, like good quality balsamic, with a dash of HP Sauce. The wax is back to give it a different sort of sharpness on the end. Like the aforementioned Belgian style, this isn't brimming with complexity or anything, but it's tasty as long as you have a substantial tolerance for sourness. It definitely leans towards being stomach-curdling but I think the high gravity means there's enough residual sugar to provide the necessary counterweight. I found myself sipping merrily through it, perhaps a little more speedily than I should have.

The Pioneer brings us into the double-figure imperial stout zone, aka my happy place. This is 11.9% ABV and aged in whiskey barrels with added Brettanomyces. It doesn't really smell of either, however, showing a red-wine aroma with a touch of cork. Normality resumes in the flavour: after an initial tart kick of berries and oak, there's a roasted coffee richness with a gentle alcoholic warmth. I suspect that the Brett's contribution is primarily in the texture: it's no sticky monster but has been thoroughly attenuated. While not thin by any means, it's lighter of body than most stouts this size. I also detected a modicum of mushroomy funk without it turning full barnyard. There's a lot to explore among the elements here, and it takes a bit of getting used to. A bigger, bolder flavour would improve it, but I guess the Brett had other plans. I'm not sure the wild yeast improves it.

The big gun comes out with Gimp Mask a 75cl monster of a Bushmills-aged imperial stout. No funky stuff is advertised, and it's not really sour, though there's something going on. To begin, it's a pretty straight-up hefty stout, full of coffee and cocoa. What surprised me about that is the barrel's contribution. Maybe I'm too used to unsubtle bourbon, but this one doesn't taste like whiskey has been near it. Instead there's that red wine effect again: raisin and Ribena, with a stickier pine resin background. I expected much sweeter and warmer this time, especially at 12.5% ABV, but this doesn't swing in that direction any more than The Pioneer does. There's a gentle sort of tartness, complicated with a little chocolate. It took me the full 75cl and about three hours to get the measure of this one: it's definitely built for slow consideration rather than a festival shot glass. Between the two of this last pair, prepare to have your preconceived notions of barrel-aged imperial stout at least wobbled a bit.

So this is what it looks like when Otterbank gets into its stride. The stouts didn't really do it for me, but the clean, pale sour offerings were adequate compensation.