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.