Slow start

In my last pale ale round-up in mid-November I noted that the release rate had slowed down significantly. Even then I wasn't quite prepared for the effective cessation of new beers from Irish breweries in January. What follows, then, are a handful I acquired, mostly, at the end of 2021. 

To begin, we pick up another from the revived Post Card brand, now brewed at Farrington's in Kildare. The Spire is relatively close to the original version which I drank, and didn't particularly enjoy, back in 2015. It's still an IPA and the ABV has climbed slightly to 5.4% from 5.2%. It has a lot in common with its stablemates, being slightly hazy in the glass and rather lacking in carbonation. For whatever reason, possibly just my mood, I found that less of a problem this time round, enjoying the gentle cask-like sparkle and finding it quite sufficient. There's some lovely tropical fruit in the aroma, making me expect something sweet and soft, but the citrus gets in first: a pithy bite that pinches the palate playfully at first, before growing into a more acute and lasting bitterness. There are notes of orange peel and hard candy hidden within that, but mostly it's all about that west-coast kick of pine and wax, plus a bonus naughty dankness. As long as you like them punchy, this is quality stuff.

It's great to be able to include a black IPA in one of these: I don't get to do that often enough. This one is called The Echo Chamber and is from Heaney Farmhouse. It is indeed very black -- they often aren't -- and there's a generous stout-like head on it. The bitter and spicy red cabbage aroma immediately tells me this is BIPA done properly. 6% ABV gives it plenty of substance, providing a stage on which the hops and roasted malts can perform. An uncompromising bitterness is where the flavour begins. That fades and softens gradually, becoming aniseed and spinach first, then burnt toast and tar: all classic aspects of the style and quite delicious. There's a sweeter side too, a little dark caramel and praline which provides a modicum of balance. I get a sense that this is black IPA designed by someone who really likes black IPAs. It maybe leans a little to much on the punchy-bitter side at the expense of flavour complexity and subtlety, but not every beer needs to be complex and subtle. When you want a proper hop wallop with a side of roast, here's your man.

Rascals goes unapologetically for the hazy with Southern Cross, a very opaque orange number with skeins of murk surging through, making it look more like a glitter beer as it poured. "Chewy" is written in large capitals on the back, and while I wouldn't go quite that far, it is a big-textured fellow; a cuddly teddybear of an IPA. The aroma mixes savoury garlic oil with bitter liquorice, meaning it's not one of your tooth-rotting juice jobs, being rather more serious and grown-up. I think that's in its favour. A herbal bitterness is the centrepiece of the flavour: liquorice again, some thyme and some mineral smoke. The southern hemisphere hops aren't named on the can, but I'd be willing to bet that German-derived New Zealand varieties are involved, and Motueka in particular, with perhaps a dash of Nelson? Overall, it works very well as an unorthodox take on hazy IPA. Leave aside your expectations of clean tropicality and embrace the weighty -- OK, chewy -- herbal mineral savoury bitterness.

O Brother had a relatively quiet 2021 but, late on, its output did include Ghostkeeper, an IPA brewed with Strata and Idaho 7, 6.5% ABV and hazy, of course. The aroma is middle-of-the-road American citrus and the flavour is muted too. While I'm unpacking what's there, props to the texture which is full without veering into sticky, making for satisfying, chewable drinking. Back to the flavour, then. It delivers the basics of American-hopped beers: a little pith, a little resin. While it has the softness of the hazy varieties it's thankfully missing the off-notes of vegetable or earthy dregs that too often accompany the murk. I quaffed through it pretty swiftly and enjoyed it as a sinkable sort of heavy IPA. There's not much to consider here, but that's not always a bad point. It's clean, it's decent, and I think that's enough.

Keeping it Kilcoole, new to Larkin's's Curious Society range is a 7% ABV IPA called BitterSweet. It's a bright and cheery pale orange colour, hazy but lightly so. That does make it look a little watery, but the gravity ensures there's plenty of body. Citra and Mosaic are the hops and, as seems to be the case with these, Mosaic is doing all the heavy lifting. It smells totally tropical, of pineapple, mango and guava, all of them ripe and mushy. There's a tiny hint of Mosaic's dark side -- raw green onion -- but it's fleeting and not at all present in the flavour. Here the juicy joy continues with only minimal bitterness for balance. With the thickness and sweetness it does run the risk of turning cloying, and one 440ml can was plenty for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed that all the way through. If you're a juice-chaser when it comes to IPA, there is no better €3 you can spend. Indeed, other Irish breweries are charging more or less double for beer of similar quality.

The Porterhouse brings us into double IPA territory with DNEIPA at 8% ABV, brewed in collaboration with the MINAW art collective who provided four different designs for the cans. As the initials suggest, it's hazy, the aroma showing the classic juice and vanilla effect so prized in the style. The citrus is emphasised more, perhaps down to the Citra and Simcoe hops. There's also Sabro, and that's very apparent in the flavour with an early buzz of coconut. The citrus bite follows that, giving it a long and bitter middle and finish. While the texture is decently soft, there's none of the sweeter vanilla I was expecting, nor any garlic unpleasantness or alcohol heat. There are those who will deem this not to style, but I really enjoyed its undercover west coast moves. IPA has never been a mainstay style for The Porterhouse, but while this one is no thriller, it is very well made and tasty.

And then it's back to O Brother for another 8%-er: Yume. This one is unusually clear and golden for the hazemeisters of Kilcoole: a touch of bittyness but no actual murk. It still smells pretty sweet, mind, of both tropical fruit and tropical-fruit-flavoured candy. With Comet, Citra and Centennial advertised I felt I had a right to some citric bitterness, and while it does deliver that in the flavour to an extent, it's not clean and sharp. The malt buries it somewhat under a thick and quite hot syrupyness. In better examples, a big bitterness would balance that, or at least provide a punchy counterpart to distract you. Here the lime and grapefruit notes peep meekly around the dense sweetness, trying not to get in its way. I can't believe I'm criticising O Brother for not putting enough hops in, but that seems to be the issue here. There's a nod to old-school American double IPA, but not in a good way: all the burn and none of the zing. For those who'd like their DIPA to also be a winter warmer, I guess.

A late add comes from Brú in the form of their Xtra pale ale, pinted at The Beer Temple on Saturday night last. It's not a new beer, having been launched in the autumn, but cans seem scarce and that was the first time I encoutered it. It's broadly in the New England style, a lightly hazy yellow, soft-textured and predominantly sweet. There's a very decent juice quotient in with a balancing pithy bitterness and a surprise dusting of coconut. The body is a little bit lacking, but it's one of those than can be described as refreshing rather than simply thin. It would make for an ideal thirst-quencher were it not for the overclocked ABV of 5.7% -- you need to be careful if knocking it back. Overall though, it's a well-made beer, not a million miles from Trouble's Ambush, and well suited to the brewery's core range.

With normal trading back in the pubs, and dry January turning to moist February, I expect the supply lines to start kicking into gear again. I'll be waiting, as always.

Bouncing back

I always welcome reviews of my reviews. Shane from DOT Brew reckoned I was off the mark in my assessment of his Last Night coffee and cocoa imperial stout, published in December. He thinks I got a bad can and offered to replace it, but it was as easy for me to pick up another on my next visit to Molloy's. So here we go again. I'm tasting this on a fresh palate and without reference to my original review.

There's nothing wrong with the aroma: it's a rich mix of dark chocolate and extremely dark-roast coffee for two different kinds of tarry bitterness. I'm enticed straight away. There's a certain briskness in the foretaste: a kind of Flanders red or oude bruin tart quality, balsamic or red wine vinegar, though not a flaw and not lasting long. Behind it there's the 10% ABV imperial stout I would expect. The coffee and chocolate are back in a big way, a little syrupy but not cloying or difficult. It's maybe a little disappointing that the flavour mostly comes from unsubtle adjuncts and the base beer doesn't make much contribution, but taken on its own merits there is nothing wrong with the beer; it's a very tasty and rich warmer with a fun tart twist.

Looking back now at the original review, it's not a million miles different: the same elements were there but that sourness was pushed much higher, at least in my perception of the beer at the time. I would like to think that there was something bacterially askew with that can, but it could easily be down to the same beer hitting differently on a different day. Your mileage may vary; mine certainly does.

On to new business, and DOT has another collaboration stout, this one via Redmond's of Ranelagh. Tokaji Stout means Tokaji barrels, and it's another imperial job, this time a little lighter at 9.8% ABV. It appeared quite dead as it poured, looking more like a sample from a fermenter than the finished product. As it settles, a thin head formed briefly enough to be photographed and then disappeared just as promptly. The beer itself is fairly flat, which is not in its favour. I get a dollop of soy-sauce umami in the aroma, though also a sweeter honeycomb side indicating that Tokaji is in the house. That dessert wine sweetness, with a slightly sticky side, is very much a feature of the flavour, where it matches quite beautifully with the chocolatey stout. Not for the first time, I've found an excellent DOT beer that just needs a bit of an extra push on the conditioning front to bring it properly to life. The way it successfully brings together disparate flavours, however, is exemplary.

Stout may not be DOT's particular area of expertise -- their barrel-aged pale ales have the beatings of everything else they do -- but both of these are very decent. I'm glad I was prompted to give Last Night a second go.

Test patch

A raft of beers from the unfamiliar Prague brewery Sibeeria arrived locally late last year. I bought a couple as testers, to see if it's worth trying the rest.

Sour IPA is a favourite style and 0801 is the sour one in their IPA Tone series. You get your money's worth with a half-litre can, filled to the very brim. The beer is only 4.1% ABV and a translucent medium lemon yellow in the glass. It smells sweet, not sour, like a fruity fizzy soft drink. Galaxy, Azacca and Idaho 7 are the responsible parties, hopwise. That's present to an extent in the flavour too, but the main feature is a lovely tart bite, right from the opener and leaving a sherbet-like buzz on the lips. It's surprisingly full-bodied too, fully justifying sipping through it, but if you want to quaff it as a thirst-quencher, that could work equally as well. I took my time, enjoying the clean orangey spritz with the tangy background. My archetypal sour IPA will always be the much-missed Wayfarer from Eight Degrees and this has a pleasing amount in common with it.

Experiment 2 brought a west coast IPA in the same series, called 0105. Immediate suspicions here as it's hazy in the glass. 6% ABV is a little lightweight for this sort of thing, and the can also tells us that Azacca and Amarillo are involved: hops I associate much more with softer and sweeter IPAs. But enough about the theory, how's the practice? The aroma is on point, all fresh and punchy with the requisite elements of citrus and pine. The flavour doesn't quite deliver, however. As expected it's quite soft and rather fuzzy in an un-west-coast way. That means there's a lack of bitterness, which is unforgivable. But even aside from stylistic concerns, there's a general blandness about this -- it's not even a good example of any other style. There's a lime cordial sweetness with no more than a squirt of lime juice and a thin coat of pine resin for balance. I guess the malt side is to style, providing sufficient residual sugar to balance a bitterness which never arrives. This is not a bad beer, but it's very much not what I'm after.

I won't be rushing out to clear the shelves of Sibeeria's other beers. I will come back to them, should they hang around, however. What I've learned today warrants a cautious optimism.

An epic

This post began as a quick check in with what Whiplash have been up to this last few months. It probably would have gone out in mid-December but that's when The Big Drop happened and I suddenly had a lot more Whiplash beers to write about.

Going back, however, their first beer, Scaldy Porter, had its annual re-issue in November, but beforehand there was a brand new porter called The Sup. I was expecting classical and certainly got it from the visuals: dark brown with ruby edging. Chocolate on the aroma? Yep, that's there too. As tends to be the case with beer, things get really interesting on tasting. For one thing the texture is sticky; this is no easy-drinking session porter, it's 5% ABV and thicc. With that comes a quite busy bitterness, like dark chocolate at first turning more severe and metallic towards the end. Whiplash is very much bound by their fashion-forward presentation, but like Scaldy this is old school; the sort of thing that other haze specialists and their customers do not bother with. That alone makes it worthwhile but it's also a very good beer: a satisfying wintery warmer. I was prepared to resent the 33cl can but I can see why they chose it. Sip don't Sup.

And then we're back into the hazy IPAs again. First up is Love Tempo, hopped with Amarillo and Vic Secret. It looks a bit darker than Whiplash haze usually is, orange rather than yellow. The aroma is fantastically juicy, mixing tropical mango and pineapple with sharper satsuma and lemon. It's lovely and smooth, gently carbonated, but still light and not sticky. I expected something bigger at 6.8% ABV, but enjoyed how unobtrusive it is. The relative lightness helps the hops play their part, and it's fully as juicy as initially indicated -- mandarins and apricots -- with a balancing herbal edge provided by the Vic Secret. And, as usual with Whiplash, there's none of the nasty side of murk: no grit, no garlic, no diesel. I remark upon it because it's still a surprise when it comes to beers like this. Anyway, this is a beaut: clean and complex, subtle and flavoursome, drinkable yet satisfying. Top work.

That left me almost apprehensive about following it with a double IPA. This is Spectral Frequency, once more yellow and hazy. Amarillo is joined by Centennial so we can all pretend it's still 2009. This smells decidedly bitter, y'know like IPAs used to be, with the iconic American grapefruit character front and centre. Sure enough, pithy grapefruit is the first part of the flavour, followed by candied lemon peel and lime zest. It's dessertish, but not in the creamy vanilla way that these often are; more like a posset or a meringue pie, with an edge of fresh citric tartness. Only at the very end is there a hint of a garlic burn but it's mild enough that it doesn't interrupt the fruit. And although it's 8.2% ABV there's very little sign of the booze. Only the full, almost chewy, body indicates that it's a strong beer. I liked it, but not as much as I liked Love Tempo, and a lot of that is about my personal preference for single IPAs over double. Whiplash is very good at both, regardless of what I think.

And that would have been it until the following plethora all landed at once and were the subject of a direct order from the brewery.

The first one I opened was I Feel Space, a grisette. I make this the third one they've done and the ABV has been bumped up slightly to 4.4%. Hallertau Blanc hops are carried over from the last one, and there's a new Australian variety too: Astra. I got major witbier vibes from the appearance: opaque yellow haze and a soft frothy head. The mouthfeel too really shows off that wheat, almost creamy in texture. The aroma is a strange mix of soft fruit -- white grape and gooseberry -- with a peppery Belgian spice. I feared the flavour would be too busy but it proved to be quite plain, conversely. It's dry and grainy, featuring the earthy side of farmhouse flavour, rather than spices. I liked how the fruity aroma introduced every mouthful, without sticking around for the main performance. It took a bit of getting used to, and the dryness in particular is on the severe side, but I was enjoying it by the end. Grisette was far from the only unusual (for Ireland) style that they had in store...

I mean, Vienna lager isn't exactly coming out of the walls. The new Whiplash one is called Das Model and is 4.8% ABV. It's a bright copper colour though the head is a bit sad, fading to flatness almost instantly. Still it's not lacking in fizz and there's plenty of biscuity aroma propelled out of the glass. "Melanoidin" says the can in capital letters and melanoidin it delivers. Yet this sweet side is only half the picture. I was dubious about the use of Bruce blend hops from New Zealand rather than anything traditionally European but it absolutely does the job, bringing a balancing dryness rather than bitterness or flavour. The end result is a tasty but understated beer, flavoursome without turning loud, and as balanced and refreshing as a nice cup of tea. Rock 'n' roll!

Next in sequence is a dunkel, called Dry The Rain. Again, head retention was an issue. You can make your recipe and process as authentic as you like, but if it doesn't end up looking like the real thing, what's the point? The result looks like a glass of cola: dark red-brown with a desultory comb-over of bubbles on top. The aroma is back on style, having a sweet and heavy mix of grass and molasses. At 5.2% ABV I think it's a little light, but that adds to the drinkability. This is not the sort of dunkel you need to chew through, and I'll admit to having found stronger ones hard work when in Munich. It has no lack of flavour impact but is very approachable. A bittersweet dark treacle effect is at the centre of the taste, flanked by burnt toast and a zinc-like tang. It delivers exactly what one expects from dunkel, with the exception of a generous head and any unwelcome stickiness. Thoroughly acceptable.

The lagers keep coming and the next one is a Märzen, called The Mash & The Fury. I don't know which German original they're trying to emulate here but it's very dark for the style, beyond the deeper shades of autumnal chestnut and into darkest mahogany. Maybe the double decoction has something to do with that, and perhaps mouthfeel is the target, because this is very heavy: a rib-sticking weightiness more like you'd get from a doppelbock and far in excess of what you'd expect at only 5.8% ABV. Still, it's not one of those cloying American-stlye Oktoberfest beers: it's clean and quite bitter, a lot like the aforementioned doppelbock. I get lots of herbal liquorice, some woody roast chestnut and a crisp layer of burnt caramel. It all makes for very satisfying winter drinking. A Maß might be hard work -- two certainly would -- but 44cl left me replete and glowing with dark lager goodness. I can't speak to its authenticity under the Märzen rule book but it was very delicious.

Last in the lager sequence is a smoked doppelbock called Immolator. This is all of 8.6% ABV, though a nicely clear shade of dark amber, or pale brown if you will. In a reverse of the previous it's remarkably easy-going, smooth and sparsely carbonated. Onto that they've successfully grafted both the sweet caramel typical of doppelbock and a fully complementary, equally smooth, smoky quality. As I've come to expect, the head isn't up to much, but that's a minor quibble. One might have a right to expect some noble-hop bitterness too, though for me the smoke is adequate recompense. I couldn't ask for much more from this. It's not quite as multidimensional as Schlenkerla's Eiche, but has plenty in common with their superb Urbock. That should be praise enough for any brewer.

Time for an IPA break before we move on to the really strong stuff. First out is Elektrobank, a Mosaic IPA of 6.8% ABV, and hazy, of course. It's nice to have some decent head retention again. The aroma of this one is a little oniony, but not unpleasantly so, with at least some sharp citrus as well. The flavour is much more tropical, I'm pleased to report, with a soft texture offering up oodles of mango and passionfruit, just as one would hope for from an all-Mosaic beer. Except for maybe a little extra sweetness which I can't assign to the hops, there's little sign of the alcohol, either in the flavour or the texture, and it slipped back very casually as a result. A single hop tends to mean a lack of complexity, and so it goes here, but I can't really complain. There's a pleasant bite of old-world pith, but mostly it's tropical all the way: Mosaic is promised and Mosaic is delivered in the best way possible.

We double up next to, er, 8.2% ABV and Open Eye Signal double IPA, this one with Citra and Amarillo. Dense-looking and sweet-smelling, it's actually a little bit lacking in the flavour department. There's a dash of orange cordial with a squirt of fresh lemon, all in the middle, but no proper finish. It's very strange because the beer is indeed dense and slick with it -- the hop oils should be coating my palate, but they don't. The only other feature is a growing alcohol heat, given free rein with nothing else to keep it in check. Whiplash's DIPA game is usually much stronger than this. At least it's a relatively clean beer: no grit or earthiness, but for a double IPA to be boring is a fatal flaw.

Technically we're back on the lager next: a barrel-aged version of the Baltic porter Melody Noir. It's over a year since the original version appeared here, and I was very happy with it. Would barrel ageing be an improvement? It raises the ABV from 7.2% to 9%, so perhaps that's one enhancement. There's a lot of sweet oak in the flavour, making me think at first that it must be bourbon, but there's a vinous side as well, because it is in fact Cognac-barrel aged. The barrel is a big part of the flavour, which is a bit of a pity: the original beer's chocolate and liquorice gets a little lost, especially the latter. The light body of a lager remains, but this makes the Cognac effect even more pronounced: a severe and syrupy sort of sweetness, not the richness of a dark malt-forward beer. I sipped my way through it but didn't really enjoy it. I guess I'm a bit of a Baltic porter purist. If brandy-barrel beer is your thing, however, this one delivers generously.

The sequence reaches a crescendo with Quad of Paradise, a quadrupel, as you might guess, brewed with grains of paradise. It's 11.1% ABV and a sheer obsidian-black, topped with a tan-coloured head. The aroma is coffee and dark fruits -- prunes and figs -- with the Belgian yeast esters working harder than the add-on ingredient. In fact, other than a quick peppery flash in the foretaste, there's very little sign of the grains of paradise in the flavour, and instead it's all about the bitter dark chocolate with a bitterer herbal side. The esters are well-behaved and it's not overwhelmingly sweet or fruity, and it's also surprisingly not hot, staying calm and drinkable. This is an excellent winter's evening sipper and substitutes well for an imperial stout, should you be in need of switching things up.

But wait, there's more. The brewery has begun a series of draught-only beers and I let the first, a red ale, pass me by. When it was followed by a mild, however, that got me out of my seat and into Dudley's, a new pub on Thomas Street. Only Swerving was served nitrogenated and extremely cold, resulting in very little character to begin with. At €6.80 a pint it wasn't really priced for casual chugging either. What gradually unfolded was a sort of dark berry tartness against a dry and crumbly high-cocoa chocolate. I like milds to have a bit of a coffee character but alas this is not one of those. The hops are understated but present, and very old-world: a somewhat metallic English tang. It's inoffensive -- mild, I suppose -- but I couldn't help feeling there's something missing: a central flavour, be that hop or malt derived, something to make it more interesting. I'm sure it would pass muster somewhere where mild is part of the everyday drinking scene, but here where it's a novelty style made by microbreweries, I don't really get the point.

Whiplash is more than a serial releaser of new beers. They have developed a positive habit of bringing back previous runs, whether because they sold well or they just like making them. There are a few here I'd like to see another round of, and Immolator in particular.

Night night, Ping-Ping

A brand new beer from Trouble Brewing arrived just before Christmas. As far as I can see we didn't get a new iteration of their Dash Away cherry chocolate stout this year, so instead it's a straight-up milk stout called Nocturne. It looks well: black with ruby edging and topped by a creamy off-white head, just like stout is supposed to be. There's a surprising, and pleasing, vegetal bitterness in the aroma, hinting that this will be more in the traditional dry style than anything candyfied or otherwise deriving from the lesser stout cultures of America and Britain.

Sure enough, there's a bitterness at the centre of the flavour, although it is as much the luxurious bite of high-cocoa dark chocolate as the metallic rasp of old-world hops. Either way, it works beautifully. There's only the faintest lactic tang in the aftertaste to remind you this is anything other than a classically constructed Irish stout. If the very idea of milk in stout puts you off, here's an example that might just change your mind.

As a top-ranking husband, I bought the Panda Saga box set from BRÚ Brewery for my Panda Nero loving wife. As a top-ranking wife, she let me have a small taste of the one I hadn't had before: Super Panda. This one follows the basic chocolate and coffee pattern of all the other variants but ramps everything up to 15.2% ABV, so a small glass should be plenty.

It seemed a little thin and translucent as it poured, suggesting high attenuation rather than high gravity. And indeed it's thin on the palate, which is not the way Very Big Stout is normally done. The add-ons are very concentrated, to the point of seeming harsh, and there's very little sense of an underlying beer. This is more of a liqueur than anything else, and I couldn't imagine drinking a whole can. Big pastry stout should be richer and more filling, not simply stronger.

I really hope the current panoply of dark Irish beers doesn't get reduced just because the evenings start to brighten. It's always winter somewhere.

The last beer left

There's no particular story behind this one, beyond that I was in Lidl, noticed an unfamiliar beer in their Hatherwood own-brand range, and bought it.

It's a session IPA called Hop Hunter, and no actual provenance is given, though the internet suggests that Marston's satellite brewery Ringwood is responsible. At 4.4% ABV it's lighter than any of the previous Hatherwood efforts I've tried. Would it deliver the promised full and zesty citrus flavours on that?

The appearance definitely wasn't very exciting: a still and clear amber colour, looking processed and lifeless. There's a strong lemon aroma, but again it's artificial, overly sweet and suggesting stickiness to come. And it comes. There's a Lucozade-like sugariness with the same fake-fruit mix on top. It's not awful, but it's not the easy-drinking refresher it ought to be. A very English tannic smoothness does aid the drinkability a little, though it also adds more than a hint of twiggy brown bitter to the picture.

There was only a slim chance that I had discovered gold in the beer aisle of Lidl, a previously overlooked gem. Instead this is bang-average budget fare, sort-of but not quite delivering both classic English attributes and new-world hop punch. Its place is in a big bucket of ice at the barbecue, and even then don't be surprised when it's the last beer left.

Going nowhere

I would love to be planning out the year's travel about now, but it's not happening. When an array of Eastern European beers showed up in Craft Central last month I bought a selection in the hope they would help sate my wanderlust a little.

The first stop is Slovenia, and a double IPA from Lobik called Why Dip? The hops are an intriguing combination of local varieties, Styrian Goldings, Styrian Wolf and Styrian Fox. It's 8% ABV and a juicy orange colour in the glass. The aroma is very orangey too, with a little touch of savoury garlic but not too much. There's no sign of that alcohol in either the texture or flavour, it's light and breezy, bursting with zest and overall quite fun to drink. The savoury side raises its unwelcome head again in the finish, but again there's enough going on to cover it. After the orange-juice foretaste there's a sweet candy-chew finish. This isn't the most complex beer in the world, but it's clean, balanced and very approachable. I'll take it.

It's amazing how hefty a 500ml can feels when you've become accustomed to 440s. We've moved to Poland, and the Nepomucen brewery. Multicultural is branded a "California IPA" which had me expecting west-coast style, so I was discombobulated by the egg-yellow hazy job which poured forth. It smells juicy and gritty, suggesting we're back to very ordinary NEIPA here. The trilogy is complete with the big dollop of garlic sitting right in the middle of the flavour, flanked by sharper spring onion. There's a modicum of juice in the finish, and a little citrus bitterness, however these up-sides are fully weighed down by the garlic and harsh grit. So it's not bland, and packs more of a flavour punch than its mere 7% ABV suggests, but it's not great. In part that's because it's not what I expected when I pulled the tab, though even in the hazy IPA stakes it's a nope from me.

For an abrupt change, Nepomucen also has a Forest Sour. What does that mean? Blueberries and spruce, apparently. It's a purple emulsion in the glass, topped with pink froth. There's no lactose here, and it's only 4.7% ABV, but it's still nicely full bodied, bulked out with wheat malt and wheat flakes. The sourness is nearly non-existent but for once I don't mind. The blueberries add a generic sort of tart sweetness, although it's the spruce that really gives this beer its character. The central flavour is a gorgeous wintery herbal thing, all pine needles and with overtones of ginger and thyme. Yes, it's a flavoured novelty beer, and you can forget about any malt or hop features; I loved it, though. Sometimes subtle and complex can take a backseat and allow fun to be the driving force.

Our final destination is Hungary, and the Mad Scientist brewery. Like a lot of Irish beer fans I've come to associate this outfit with the weird dessert beers they ship with the Boxtravaganza boxes in summer. It feels a bit odd to be drinking a straightforward hazy IPA, but that's what Mad House is. It smells sweet and orangey, like a fruit chew, so I was expecting sticky but it's surprisingly thin. It is only 5.5% ABV so maybe that's to be expected. It's not as sweet as I feared, with a kind of sherbet and pith effect, finishing savoury with a touch of spice. I had to put in a bit of work to identify all this, however, as it's really not very assertively flavoured, to the point of being a little watery. It's inoffensive fare, but for €5.50 I think I'm entitled to more than that.

The last beer is another in the latest unnecessary new beer style: cold IPA. This one, Megageil, is 5.9% ABV, pale yellow with a faint misting of haze. The aroma is extremely dank: that almost fetid rotting vegetal funk certain hops give off. The varieties are not named. It's a lager all right, a clean and crisp base encouraging easy drinking. And then there's the hops, pulling the flavour in all sorts of directions. The funky side is there, though calmer than it seemed from the aroma, and it's offset by a sweet candy-chew fruit aspect. There's not much bitterness, just a few pinches of fennel or anise, before it finishes with a spicy black pepper flourish. It's a fascinating combination, though even as a lager it's a bit busy. I found it hard to relax with this one -- the lager-cleanness gives the hops too much free space to run riot. I shouldn't be surprised that cold IPA has a lot of the same inherent problems as IPL. Expect more cold IPA on these pages regardless.

That's the end of today's trip. I see some interesting things from other points east have arrived in Craft Central lately so it won't be long before I'm off on another virtual beery trip.

Set the controls

Metalman has never really been one of those new-beer-every-week sort of breweries but they've been making hay with the Galactic Voyager series lately. Today's IPAs are the sixth and seventh, by my count.

Haze is still king of the style, and Absolute Magnitude is a light one at just 5.3% ABV. There's a relative thinness to both the haze and the mouthfeel here. A vague orangey quality in the aroma ramps itself up in the flavour to become a lovely burst of tangy mandarin and satsuma. The thinness pays off in making it fantastically thirst-quenching and really built for the pint glass more than the 33cl can. While it's not especially complex, there is a pleasing bitter bite in the finish, to balance all that juice. It wasn't surprising to learn that Mandarina Bavaria is among the hops used, but what really shocked me is that it's in there with both Sabro and Sorachi Ace. Normally the pith and coconut from either of these would be unmissable, but miss it I did. Knowing it's there, I did get a little of Sorachi's pith in the finish, but it's unusually restrained. Regardless, this is a quality little number and one I hope will still be around in the summer when its refreshment powers will be most useful.

They've invented an entirely new style for the next one: Late Heavy Bombardment is a "Rather Hoppy IPA". RHIPAs, it turns out, are 6% ABV and quite darkly hazy. The aroma is sweet and citric, suggesting orangeade or cordial. Mosiac, Idaho 7 and Hüll Melon are the hops, and I expected something more tropical from that, perhaps unreasonably, but this is a little olde worlde instead. Interestingly, even though it's only a tad stronger than the above it provides plenty to chew on and is much more a sipper than a quaffer. Citrus intensifies on tasting, and it wears a sharp pithy bitterness up front, where it leans almost to grass and green veg. The orange is still there but this time it's a big and hefty jaffa rather than a cutesy mandarin. A dry gritty roughness finishes it on a slightly severe note. This was all a little too serious and bitter for my liking. 33cl was plenty.

I'm fascinated by how two broadly similarly-specced beers can provide such different experiences. The brewery doesn't tell us anything about the yeasts used, but maybe that's a factor. Normally, old-fashioned punchy bitterness doesn't bother me, but the spritzy breeziness of Absolute Magnitude was my preference here.

Pomme and circumstance

I hadn't heard anything about this new one from Land & Labour when I happened across it in the off licence. Hard Graf is a graf: a mix of beer and apple juice, something you don't see very much of in these parts. The one White Hag did with MacIvor's cider, Silver Branch, is the only other example that springs to mind (edit: though see also Kinnegar's Olan's Tart and the comments below). Anyway, Land & Labour is always to be trusted so I didn't mind parting with a tenner to find out what it's like.

The label mentions rosemary, sage and black limes and I misread it, thinking these were actually included in the recipe (they're not). My mistaken belief was fully borne out by the foretaste which absolutely shows the oily winter herbal quality of sage in particular -- it dominates, the way actual sage tends to when used in beer. The effect is achieved with nothing more involved than spontaneously fermented beer, apple juice and 18 months ageing in wine barrels.

A lightly hazy yellow colour, it smells like a lambic, with the same sort of oak-and-gunpowder spice. Beside the initial herbal taste there's a sweetness which I guess they're calling black lime, but is more like lime cordial to me. It's interesting how it creates an illusion of sugary density even though it's actually quite light-bodied. As is often the case with fruited geuze, the base beer gets a little lost, receding to no more than a tangy sour seasoning in the finish.

Overall, it's a fascinating and delicious creation. I doubt I would have ever guessed what went into it. It's amazing what simple ingredients can do in skilled hands.

So that was Christmas

Christmas with family brought a selection of bottled beers from England and Wales. From the UK's beer internet it can be easy to forget that these still exist. It's not all brightly coloured cans over there.

Take, for example, Wye Valley Hopfather: 3.9% ABV and described as a session IPA, different from a bitter because of the cocktail of American hops, I guess. It's a clear pale golden colour, which I got to appreciate at length while I waited for the head to settle. There's a gorgeous aroma of fresh tropical fruit with a lacing of lemon peel. The mouthfeel is surprisingly full given the modest strength: smooth and almost creamy. The promise of fresh fruit gives way to something rather more artificial tasting -- Skittles and Starburst -- a calling card of Azacca. It avoids turning sticky thanks to a spicy edge of gunpowder and clove, alongside a fresh and floral honey sweetness. Overall, this is a thoroughly enjoyable little chap: accessible while still massively flavourful. Exactly what traditional English brewing does best, even when it's elbow-deep in the American hops.

Cotswald Ale from Hook Norton takes great pains to appear humble and genteel, promising balance and little else. Although the hops are Cascade and Chinook, they're English-grown, not those brash American ones. In English bitter terms it's a bruiser at 4.4% ABV, and though the label says it's golden, it looks more amber to me. It's bottled, but does a great job of channelling the cask effect, being smoothly textured and richly malt-forward. Balancing the maltose are tea-like tannins and a mild lemon bitterness. This is another modest little beauty. It had been "cellared" a little longer than the brewery recommends but was still perfectly delicious.

I came out of this a bit miffed that we don't really get English beers like these in Dublin any more. Despite the low profile they're still very much worth drinking. Then it was on to some seasonal fare.

Basking in the satisfaction of completing the 1000-piece jigsaw before Christmas lunch, I opened Ding Dong, a golden ale from Monty's of Powys. It poured mostly clear with a slight suspension of trub in it, smelling gently of grapefruit and bubblegum. There's a faint mustiness too, however, and that's at the front of the flavour: dry and brittle crepe paper, dried dandelions and rye crackers. It's not how I like my golden ales, at any time of the year. The fruit character has all but vanished, letting it finish on rubber and over-boiled vegetables. Can you tell I wasn't impressed? I wasn't impressed.

A second chance for the brewery comes in the form of Figgy Pud, a more fully-formed festive effort. This is a self-avowed winter warmer, promising cinnamon and mixed spices. Full marks for the texture: smooth and creamy, built for sipping. I'm not convinced by the spice mix, however. It's there, but it tastes like a particularly manly brand of shower gel, all musk and sandalwood. There's tang from it; a most unfestive vinegar buzz. My soft spot for black pepper is the only thing that saves it: there's a clean sort of oily exotic spice. That's not much of a fig-pudding flavour, but I'll take it. Still, this didn't quite deliver on its promise of being Christmassy. Spices don't make Christmas. Sorry Monty.

Hobsons, a favourite English brewery of mine, has turned its Postman's Knock porter into Postman's Plum Porter, boasting that the local Shropshire Prune Damson is the very essence of plum. That's as maybe but it's still an absolutely top-notch porter, 5% ABV but light and thirst quenching, gently roasted and with a dark chocolate centrepiece, flecked with hazelnut pieces. The fruit is worn lightly around that, tasting of raisin more than plum to me, with just a hint of jam but certainly no stickiness. I'm not sure that it's better than the original but it's not a downgrade either. This one has all the charm implied by its chocolate-box label art.

Another random factor from an unfamiliar brewery: Bewdley, in Worcestershire. I wasn't all that inspired by the label of Bah Humbug! and so it proved with the beer within. Advertised as "ruby", it's a dark cola-brown, and goes straight down the middle for English ale: Maris Otter, crystal malt, Fuggles and Goldings. 4.6% ABV should be enough to give it plenty of heft but it's thin. Stewed tea and soft biscuits lend an air of Sunday afternoon at the carehome. According to the brewery it tastes of liquorice, and there's a certain old-school herbal bitterness, though I wouldn't say full-on aniseed. There's no active unpleasantness here but not much going on its favour either. Sink and move on.

Finally, the brewery formerly known as Wells & Young (now The Eagle, a subsidiary of Carlsberg/Marstons) has a Christmas Porter, promising plum and chocolate though declining to list its ingredients. It's properly black with a decent tan-coloured head. This is no Christmassy confection, it's very bitter, with a little dark chocolate and a lot of pipe tobacco and coffee grounds. There's a certain soft sweetness coming from the plum but it's short-lived, then we're back to the hard roughness. Bitter porter doesn't usually bother me; I tend to be all-in with them, but I couldn't warm to this. There's an overriding staleness, unpleasantly sweaty, that spoiled it for me. A near miss from the brewery with the complicated name and even more complicated history.

The campy forced jollity of Christmas beers like these tends to be the most entertaining thing about them; for the most part the liquid isn't up to much. Yet not even that tendency can upset the understated class of Hobsons, still a firm favourite, plums or no.

Just a quick one

Prolific Dublin brewery Third Barrel tends to warrant big long posts as I try to keep up with everything they've put out. It's a much more manageable handful today, however.

The first, under the main brand with collaborative input from Berlin brewpub BräuGier, is a cold IPA called #Verboten. This is the first cold IPA I've featured here and you'll need to go somewhere else to learn why some nerd thinks it's genuinely innovative while a different dork considers it the same as India pale lager. Regardless, it's 7.5% ABV and a rich golden colour in the glass with a slight haze. Strata, Idaho 7 and Cryo Pop all feature in the hop charge, with a promise of juiciness to come. It smells like your basic American IPA, with more modern candy-chew sweetness favoured over citric bitterness. The body is quite heavy, fully reflecting the ABV but not the promise of cool fermentation: no lager crispness here. Mind you, going back to the label it says it's brewed like a lager and "fermented like a West Coast" suggesting, as the mouthfeel definitely does, that it's an ale after all. I am confused. The flavour offers much of what the aroma does, being fruit candy again, plus an added savoury dimension: fried onion and peppers. The very ale-ish texture gives that a long and slightly sticky finish. Overall, it's fine. I'm not wowed by this amazing new style of beer, nor by a superior American-style IPA, but it's nice. Third Barrel does IPA well, and this is one of those, no more, no less.

New for TwoSides is Hazy Train, an IPA which does what it promises: an opaque orange-yellow with a fine meringue topping. I was expecting sweet but it's very nicely balanced, delivering a tang and a spice with the juice and eschewing any vanilla or other confection. I was happily horsing through my pint at The Headline before I thought to check the ABV: it seemed light but the complexity hinted at hidden alcohol. Thankfully it's only 4.5% ABV and thereby fully horseable. I was reminded a little of the past TwoSides classic Two Yards: it has the same bright and summery freshness. On a dismal midwinter afternoon it was exactly the ray of sunshine I needed.

Dessert is breakfast: a coffee and oatmeal stout from Third Circle called A Shot in the Dark. Coffee and cereal is exactly what the aroma delivers, and the flavour is strikingly bitter. They may as well have added a couple of Gauloise to this, because it's extremely grown-up and not even remotely creamy. 5.2% ABV is low for something of this nature, but the lightness it provides accentuates the powerful roastiness. To ding it, the coffee side is a little overdone and I can't help feeling there's a good stout buried under it. Also, isn't oatmeal meant to make it smooth? It really doesn't here. That's me being persnickity, though. On its own terms, this is lovely: one of those boldly flavoured beers where the boldness is a reward in itself. If you've yet to find a coffee stout that delivers sufficiently on the coffee front, here you go.

Three quite different beers here, all showing off the talents of the Third Barrel team. Dublin's brewing scene would be a lot duller without them. I'll have a different brewer's very different take on cold IPA in a post coming soon.

Huddersfield does Berlin

For my trip north at Christmas I took along a couple of Magic Rock cans to drink on the train. I've not had much from this once-revered brewery in a while. Both of these are in the fruited Berliner weisse style.

They're a little on the strong side, the lighter of the pair, Electric Currant, being all of 4.6% ABV. It's flavoured with blackcurrant and in fairness it does look like Ribena: a crystalline purple-red. The flavour isn't especially blackcurranty, however. In part that's because of the sourness, bringing a sharply tart quality to the whole picture, which is unsubtle but welcome. This is no sticky pretend-sour effort. The texture is nicely soft and the flavour gentler than blackcurrant, suggesting cherry and strawberry to me. It's all rather jolly, if perhaps a little too seriously sour to act as an easy-going refreshment beer: light but still made for sipping.

After that, I had high hopes for Fruitfulness, this one named for its inclusion of elderberry, juniper and blackberry, getting a minor ABV boost to 4.8%. It's an even deeper purple colour and certainly smells of an amalgam of mixed berries. The flavour is disappointingly plain, however, with the grainy dryness of unadorned Berliner weisse being more prominent than the fruit. It could be that these berries just aren't particularly flavoursome as beer ingredients, though there also seems to be a lack of depth, of substance, here. Comparing the ingredients listings I notice that the previous one had oats and this doesn't. That it's mildly tangy rather than full-on sour does make for easier drinking, but it still doesn't stack up well against Electric Currant as regards complexity.

Although I had a strong preference for one over the other, there was nothing wrong with either beer. I think it's safe to say that Magic Rock has still got it, despite the change in ownership.

F-pop

France is a hugely underrepresented country on the beer scene. I know there's plenty going on there but their export game seems lacking. I jumped at the chance to try a set from a brewery I hadn't heard of when they arrived in local shops recently. Say hello to Brasserie Popihn from Burgundy.

We begin with a pale ale called Icauna, 4.8% ABV and a medium-hazy yellow. New England was definitely on their mind when they created this, and it has the vanilla aroma and flavour plus a certain soft fluffiness to the texture. It's well balanced, however, with a zesty citrus bittering, finishing tangy rather than sweet. It's quite simple that way, with no further complexities on offer, but equally no nasty off-flavours; no grit or garlic, which is always appreciated. This is a well-made nod to fashion but rooted in the clean and refreshing aspects of American-style pale ale. A good start.

We go even more chic next, with a "pastry sour" called Pastry Sour. Normally it's lactose and fruit that defines the style, but while this one claims raspberry (obviously there but not listed on the ingredients), the adjuncts are coconut, vanilla and cocoa. Odd. It pours a deep purple shade, fizzing busily before settling without a head. Sure enough it's raspberry and chocolate in the aroma, and that's the nuts and bolts of the flavour too. I don't know if Ruffle bars are still in production, but this is how it tastes to me. Ordinarily, beers designated as pastry sour are jammy and sweet, but this one has a substantial sour element. The candy doesn't coat the palate, and after that initial chocolate buzz there follows quite an intense lactic bite, which helps clean it up and bring out more of the raspberry.

Arriving in the next shipment was a final sour fruity one: Berliner Weisse Cassis / Framboise. I tried hard to include the head in my picture but it didn't last long enough. Take my word that there's a pleasing pink topping on the scarlet body, albeit briefly. Blackcurrant and raspberry are both fairly commonplace in fruit beers but I can't recall any that use the combination on its own. Normally I would expect raspberry to be dominant: that's usually how it goes. Here, however, the drinker is presented with blackcurrant first in the aroma, and is left with a lingering Ribena aftertaste. Only in the middle does the raspberry peep out, and quite briefly. And as with the previous one, this takes its sourness seriously, not overdone but assertive and it complements the berries well. This is a fun and tasty effort, if a little overclocked at 5.1% ABV.

Back to the hazy yellow, then. Southern Passion is an IPA of 6.6% ABV. That's a strength not to be sniffed at, but it's actually quite a light and breezy affair, lacking heat or any cloying sweetness. What you get is a gentle pineapple quality, with a sprinkling of cinnamon, tailing off to lemon juice. That's it, that's all it does, but it's lovely. The cleanness and simplicity is not something one regularly encounters from high-end hazy IPA, but it works wonderfully. Mind you, €6 is a lot to pay for something simple and decent. Simple and decent can be got for a lot less in other styles from other places.

It's a double IPA to finish: DIPA DDH Cryo Pop / HBC 472 / Ekuanot. I can't imagine what someone who isn't seriously into beer would make of an unhelpful name like that, but then they probably have other things to spend €7 on. The message is clear that this isn't for beginners. Yes it's opaque and yellow, and there's a fresh tropical aroma, bringing sweet pineapple, mandarin and a little orange pith. The flavour runs big on juice, and intensely so. I get a sort of concentrated satsuma with an edge of lemon zest. This subsides after a moment, allowing a dirty garlic and burnt plastic mix. This is enhanced by a thick texture and significant heat. It's 8% ABV but could easily pass for a point or two more. I mean, I guess it's fully to spec, and an all-in hazy DIPA fan will literally lap it up. But I know it can be done with more nuance than this. Too harsh, too boozy and, frankly, too juicy. If you're craving an ever more more intense juice experience, here's your beer.

It would be nice to see more French beer around even if, judging from the above, they make same sort of beer there as everywhere else these days.