B.O.R.I.S. & Company

For any beer writer it's important to have an understanding of the classics, the genre-defining beers, however much they may have fallen out of fashion or been cloned -- or even improved upon -- by subsequent generations of brewers. There are certain products of American brewing that were once spoken of reverentially, back when all that was thrilling in beer came from the USA, and as a still-scribbling hack who was around then, I take great pleasure in ticking them off. The "Bodacious Oatmeal Russian Imperial Stout" from Ohio's Hoppin' Frog brewery is one such, so when it showed up in these parts for the first time I naturally acquired a tin. In the years since it was one of planet's top-flight beers it has acquired a string of descendents so I thought it only good manners to try those too.

Begin then, at the beginning. I had no prior expectations for B.O.R.I.S. the Crusher but was immediately impressed by the café crème head, one which simply whispers... density. The aroma is no next-level brilliance: it smells nicely of chocolate but nothing especially striking. Could this be one of those old classics that has been so successfully and widely cloned that it's much less impressive now? Again the texture is spot-on but not distinctive: rich and creamy, with the oatmeal doing what it's supposed to. It's "only" 9.4% ABV but could easily pass for bigger. The impressive bit is the flavour. Old geezers like me remember when imperial stout was a hop-forward style, and this one lays on the grass and green veg in generous quantities. The chocolate is still there, both milk and dark, there's a shot or two of espresso, and then that bitter leaf bite on the very end. It's beautifully done. I don't think this really receives hype any more, but it deserves everything it's got and is a great model for any brewer to steal ideas from. And with the tone set by the original, let's get into the brand extensions.

From "Bodacious" to "Double". The purity of the experiment is compromised by this being the extended barrel-aged version of D.O.R.I.S. the Destroyer, "aged 5x longer for a super-deep finish", whatever that means. If the last one looked dense, this absolutely doubles down, pouring like hot tar. The aroma is quite winey, in a fortified way: vermouth, madeira, oloroso, all mixed together. I guess oak is the common element there. That absolutely comes through in the flavour, with splinters and raisins before you get to the stout. It's a bit of fun but no classic. The special effects (throw in retsina, sangria, ruby port) are enjoyable in a kooky novelty way though they come at a price. I prefer imperial stout at a much more basic level. This was the only big can in the set and I would have appreciated a smaller measure. B.A. D.O.R.I.S. is hard work.

The sequence proceeds predictably from there, though the cans get mercifully smaller. T.O.R.I.S. the Tyrant represents the "triple" aspect, and is 13.8% ABV. It's so thick that I thought it was pouring flat, and then was surprised when a tall tan head foamed up just as the can emptied. In the mouth it's not unpleasantly sticky, coating the palate without turning cloying. The aroma is sweet fudge first with a mild burnt bitterness behind, while the flavour flips this on its head, being predominantly bitter. There's a mix of rough and nautical pipe tobacco with boiled vegetables, steaming hot tar and concentrated molasses. But, you know, in a good way? The extremeness is tempered by oily espresso and a gentle floral side which pervades it, sprinkling rosewater and lavender to soothe any jangled nerves. It didn't take me long to sip through 248ml, and I enjoyed the lot. I've drank enough super-powered imperial stouts (hallo De Molen!) to know that they can be balanced and nuanced and complex, and this is one of those. It has a lot positive in common with the original above, and the absence of barrel-ageing is a big factor in that.

It would be hilarious if Q.O.R.I.S. the Quasher were a light lager, but it's another imperial stout, this time 15.7% ABV and we're back on the bourbon barrels. Of course it's another thick one, though this time without the handsome head. The whisky doesn't have the same dominance here as in D.O.R.I.S., which is good: you get a super-strong and uncompromised imperial stout with just a small bonus vanilla-and-spirit aspect which doesn't interfere too much with the main picture. The main picture is classic imperial stout, featuring bitter coffee, bitter chocolate and bitterer vegetables. The fudge and molasses of T.O.R.I.S. feature as well, though the whole picture is not as complex and harmonious as that one. It's still good though: challenging but in a small enough measure that it's not a chore to drink. I deem it a worthy brand extension of B.O.R.I.S. even if it's not the best of them.

Barrel-ageing does not mean your big stout will improve, is the lesson from this lot; alongside that rule that if you make a really really good dark and strong beer there probably isn't much you can do to ruin it. While imperial stouts of this sort are abundant these days, even on this island, I sensed a genuine classic quality in the set. The American breweries who made the style popular worldwide were, and are, doing something that most of their imitators have not quite mastered yet.

Spring forward

2022's Irish beers have arrived! Wicklow Wolf is first out of the traps for me with today's pair. They're different styles, though both 5.5% ABV.

Red rye IPA is an unusual formulation, and that's what Canis Rufus is. They seem to have put a light touch on the redness as it's more orange, and not dissimilar to other, non-red, rye IPAs. Making the drinker immediately think of Kinnegar Rustbucket is a good place for any beer to start. The aroma is properly sharp, suggesting both rye and hops, though there's a jammy sweetness lurking behind as well. Still, the flavour is predominantly dry, with the appropriate grassy bitterness. This is complemented by a green vegetal hop kick, though a subtle one. And then the jam translates to a soft summer fruit sweetness on the finish. So the rye is in charge, and that's OK, but I would have liked a bit more wallop from this one. It's rye IPA for beginners, but still a rye IPA: red IPA's oversweet flaws are pleasingly absent.

The second beer is Apex Cherry. I make this the eighth version of Apex to have landed since the original was introduced in 2019. Despite the added fruit, this does retain all the hallmarks of a very good oatmeal stout: a tan-coloured head doming above the rim of the glass; beneath it a dark brown body with a silky creaminess. While there's more than a hint of cherry cola in the aroma, there's a grown-up roast as well. The flavour made me double check the ingredients. Cherry and chocolate blend together to create a Black Forest gateau effect, as one might expect, but I get a distinct layer of coconut as well, bringing a Bounty bar into the picture. Yet there is no coconut, so I've no idea what alchemy has produced this. It's no hardship. While this is definitely a novelty beer, one which gets right in your face with the added ingredient, there's no loss of quality as a result. Cherry suits it, a sensation I don't normally get from cherry stouts. For possibly the first time I'm feeling quite charitable towards the Apex hacking programme.

A good start to the year's releases from Wicklow Wolf, then.

A right plum

I guess it's the success of Titanic Plum Porter that led Aldi GB to commission a version of their own: Harper's Plum Porter at roughly the same strength of 4.8% ABV. I'm used to the Titanic one smooth on cask, whereas this has a prickly carbonation. The aroma is dry and minerally while the flavour goes porter first -- chocolate, toast, hazelnuts -- with just a vague jammy fruit sweetness to speak for the plums.

It meets the basic requirements, although all that fizz is a major lack of chill. I thought it might have smoothed out as it warmed and flattened but it doesn't really. This sort of beer really needs to be smooth, and cask dispense is unfortunately beyond Aldi's remit.

As a home substitute for pub plum porter this doesn't really work, but at least it's inoffensive and, doubtless, cheap.

Øl in

I had decided to pick up a few To Øl beers for a blog post as there are always plenty of them about. At the same time, The Fine Ale Countdown podcast was coming to the end of its dry-January run and Gavin gave a highly complimentary (even for Gavin) account of the brewery's Implosion non-alcoholic beer, declaring it the best of its kind he'd ever tasted. Well. I had to drop one of those into the basket at Molloy's too.

They've gone for the New England genre in style, and it has all the soft texture that belongs in there. The aroma is properly juicy while the flavour has a pleasant sweet lemon and mandarin quality. But behind it there's a worty quality hovering in the background, the sort of thing that's absolutely typical in the non-alcoholic milieu. It's far from unpleasant, however, and does a reasonably good impression of the real thing. Thanks for the recommendation, Gav.

Moving on, I sometimes forget that session-strength stout is a rarity in lots of other countries, though I'm always keen to try them when they show up. To Øl's is called CHAAARGE! and is a very modest 4% ABV. It's nitrogenated in the can with a widget, and that all worked out well: a hiss of gas, a surge of bubbles and a stable creamy head. The body beneath it looks correctly black also. There is an aroma, and it's dominated by sweet chocolate, backed by drier cereal. I was afraid it might be a bit sickly, but it fully lives up to the dry billing. There's even a pinch of metallic hops in the finish, matching and balancing the milk chocolate. The nitro deadens things a little, of course, but there's still plenty of tasty character here, in a very smooth and drinkable package. Chaaarge indeed. If the aim was to do this in the way that comes naturally to good Irish breweries then mission accomplished.

Another big ABV jump, to 7.5%, brings us to Whirl Champions 2021. I haven't really enjoyed the hazy IPAs from To Øl since they moved to their own brewery, but this one carries the imprimatur of several accomplished hazemeisters, including Dublin's own Whiplash. Strata, Citra and Ekuanot are the hops and there's not much wrong with any of those so I was all eager expectation when I popped the top.

It's quite dark for a high-end hazy IPA: an unattractive shade of earwax orange. The phrase "super juicy" appears on the label, and that's the first mistake. The aroma shows a little tropical fruit, but rather more savoury spring onion and garlic. On tasting, the fruit all but leaves the picture entirely. There's a high level of bitterness which may be hop-derived, but doesn't fulfil the juicy promise, and is horribly earthy, gritty, dirty: exactly the problem of the previous To Øl IPAs. I fear the other seven brewers may have wasted their time contributing. After the grit and pushing through the garlic burn, there's a tiny flash of cantaloupe in the aftertaste, but it's not how juicy ought to work, and the garlic is straight back in the reflux. Bleuh.

I declare the stout to be the stand-out beer of this selection. What can we do to get breweries worldwide making this sort of thing as a matter of course?

Pinta this, Pinta that

My experience of Poland's Pinta brand, from previous visits to the country, was of a stolidly reliable producer, a veteran of the 1990s microbrewery boom and still turning out decent if unadventurous beers. I shouldn't have been surprised to discover that they've adapted to current market conditions and are now making more diverse and trend-chasing products. I discovered this by buying two of them.

That they do hazy IPAs in colourful cans probably isn't very noteworthy in itself, but this particular one, uses a hop I hadn't heard of before: Pacific Sunrise from New Zealand, to the tune of 20g per litre. With a cheery optimism they've called it Enjoy Pacific Sunrise and it's 6.5% ABV. The visuals are certainly on-trend: a pale orange-yellow emulsion, the colour of beaten egg, with a loose white froth on top. For all the massive hop charge, the aroma isn't especially exciting, offering merely a nod to some non-specific tropical fruits. It follows that there's no taste explosion in the flavour either. It's quite sweet, with tinned-fruit-in-syrup vibes rather than anything fresh and juicy. The texture is spot-on though, so if you come to hazy IPA for the creamy smoothness rather than the hop impact, then this is for you. Mercifully, there's nothing unpleasant taking up the space where a bigger hop flavour might be: it's clean and, if not quaffable and refreshing, at least sippable and enjoyable. Pinta's look may have changed, but I detect a certain caution in how the beer has been put together. And I'm not really any the wiser on the merits of Pacific Sunrise.

Something quite different but equally fashionable follows: a big imperial stout with added coffee and maple syrup, called Risfactor. It's a handsome devil: oily black with a firm beige head of tight foam. Textbook for a 10%-er. There's a decent quantity of freshly roasted coffee in the aroma but it doesn't smell like a novelty beer. And it doesn't taste like one either. There's a light touch on the add-ons, to the point where the coffee element could easily be from delicious roasted malt, and there's nothing I could point to in the considerable dense sweetness that's specifically maple syrup. Both of the novelty ingredients integrate fully into the proper flavour of good imperial stout -- they're enhancements, like seasoning. But wait, there's more. What really propelled this one into the upper echelons is the aftertaste. Once you get past the dessert effects there's a remarkably fresh-tasting grassy green bitterness providing what I guess counts for balance in such a palate-thumper. In this one, the brewery's years of skills really shines through. Pinta is of a similar vintage to Dublin's Porterhouse and, for me, this is their Around the Clock.

There are more versions of Risfactor out there. I hope we'll see them in here.

Sadhbh alive-o

If you have an aversion to Irish red ale, look away now. Today's review is another product of the January doldrums, though the beer itself was launched back in October, largely for export, I suspect. We were into the new year before I saw it for sale.

This is Sadhbh from The White Hag. Though very much built for the session at only 4.1% ABV it comes in small cans and is quite a pleasingly dark shade of red with a wholesome dusting of haze. The aroma is not that of a bland watery red, with rich and sweet caramel, some milk chocolate and an intriguing Christmassy spice. As expected it's quite full-bodied, which gives it a warming roundness that belies the strength. The sweet side is more subtle than I was expecting, a flash of fudge, but nothing lasting. Instead, the dominant feature is in the finish: a dry green bite of old-world hops, a little metallic and a little grassy. I would guess an English variety.

The overall effect is properly interesting. While this isn't a different style pretending to be an Irish red ale, there are distinct signs of the relationship to UK bitter. As such it would definitely work better by the pint.

Ohh, those Russians

My exploration of beers from the eastern parts of Europe brings us all the way east to Russia today.

The first I picked solely for its batshit name: the 5.5% ABV Spicy is Jungle. Eh? This comes from Moscow's Black Cat brewery, in collaboration with St Petersburg contractor Time Bomb. They describe it as a "smoothie sour ale" and there's mango, guava, apricot and chilli in it. That's all unusual enough but I wasn't prepared for what happened when I poured it out. I use "soupy" as a descriptor for murky beers, but this is the first that looked like literal soup; carrot, I'd say: bile-coloured, extremely viscous and totally flat. Or at least at first. The bizarreness was a sudden reaction after a minute or two, frothing up a short-lived head. I've never seen anything like it. So you won't by surprised when I say it's not at all like a beer. It is like a smoothie, though, with a thick creaminess and a flavour indistinguishable from what you'd get if you zhuzhed some tinned apricots in a blender with a couple of tropical fruit slices and a generous spoonful of chilli powder. That last ingredient gives it quite a harsh and dry peppery finish, one that's not at all complementary with the sweet fruit beforehand. Overall this isn't unpleasant, but I wanted to drink a beer and this did not deliver that experience, which makes it an abject failure as a beer.

But let's continue with the weird anyway. AF Brew is a St Petersburg brewery I've met once before, abroad, and now they're here. This is another I picked because it looked so off-kilter, a pumpkin ale (Russia's first, they claim) called Redneck. In a marked contrast to the previous, it's a clear amber colour and seemed a little thin as it poured, for something that's 7% ABV. The aroma is very typical of pumpkin: lots of cinnamon, with a clove rock sweet side. The texture is light, but it's not unpleasantly watery, though that does mean the flavours are somewhat muted. That may be a good thing, depending on your standpoint as regards beers like this. What you get is very standard fare; a mish-mash of dull and indistinct spices, with nothing fresh, bright or distinctive. It might have wowed on launch in 2012 but I was quite quickly bored of it, and I don't even have much exposure to pumpkin beer. This one is only for those who desperately need another average-tasting pumpkin spice ale in their lives.

It's back to Black Cat for the finisher, and possible redemption. Snakepit is a sour IPA of 6.3% ABV with Citra and Mosaic, which all sounds pleasingly normal. In the glass it's a cloudy and pale shade of orange, and there's a distinct dry tartness in the aroma, though not so much of the hops. The flavour is mild, pleasingly so, though you don't get much of a bang for the strength. Instead it's refreshing, with a zingy citrus juice effect. The sourness isn't exactly pronounced, and it certainly isn't puckering, but it dovetails neatly with the hop zest. This adds up to delicious refreshment and a beer of understated and unfussy pleasure. Black Cat is back in my good books.

Leaving the pumpkin thingy aside as a poor choice, what's interesting is how meaningless the term "sour" has become, even when applied by the same brewery. Neither of the Black Cat beers were sour in the classical sense, nor had they much in common, but here we are. Tread cautiously.

The spoils

I did a modest amount of gueze shopping when I was in Brussels over the summer. No beers-by-the-case but a few suitcase-fillers and bubblewrap-users. New ticks were the main priority and I have two such today.

It's almost two years since I wrote unenthusiastically about the first release from Lambiek Fabriek, opining that the beer lacks the poise of more established breweries' wares. That should be enough time to develop some poise, so I chanced a bottle of the kriek, Jart-Elle, when I saw it. It's 6% ABV which should lend it plenty of heft, but my first impression was of wateriness. That should never be a feature of beers like this. There's a lovely funky aroma and a pleasant gunpowder spicing in the foretaste, but like the real thing it flashes and it's gone, as if there's not enough substance to hold it in place. I don't get much of a contribution from the cherries either. Yes it's an oude kriek, but it's only been bottled since April 2020: that shouldn't be so long that they've faded out almost completely. Once again I'm left with the impression that Lambiek Fabriek is not at the top table yet. This definitely has all the right components, with no sign of shortcuts or obvious flaws, but it just doesn't gel together the way the really good ones do. The complexity is there, but it doesn't spend long enough on the palate to provide a proper tasting experience. Higher gravity and more fruit, is what this one needs, in my entirely unschooled opinion.

The Toer de Geuze was scheduled to happen in 2021 but didn't, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, the lambic breweries who are members of the trade association HORAL still dutifully put together a blend of their collective wares and sent it out for sale. As usual, it's 7% ABV. Maybe it's the disadvantage of drinking these relatively fresh, but it was a bugger to pour, foaming busily despite being decently cold when I opened it. When I finally got to the beer, however, I was very impressed. This has a great deal in common with the previous iteration in 2019, emphasising the peppery spice, calling to mind pink peppercorns and white pepper in particular, for me. The texture is full and surprisingly smooth, given the fizz, adding a creamy side which starts to give the beer a luxury steak-sauce vibe. I'm fully on board with that. And then there's a cleansing white-vinegar tartness, a little waxy bitterness and a dusting of gunpowder: all the standard good things that make geuze worthwhile.

I don't for a moment assume that when the high-end lambic producers combine their wares into Gueze Voltron it automatically means that the results will be greater than the sum of its parts... but it's hard to think of this lad as anything else. Local folks please note that this is still available in Ireland's purveyors of lambic. I have already replaced the single bottle I suitcased over.

Blunt edges

The bourbon barrel wagon trundled through Ballymahon and the Wide Street crew jumped aboard. A 14.5% ABV imperial stout, aged ten months in bourbon barrels, is out of keeping for the wild-fermentation specialists, but they've been expanding the repertoire lately, so why not?

Presenting, then, Liquid Swords, in a 75cl bottle with a €20 price sticker on top. It's a rather flat chap, not bothering to form a head and with only the faintest of carbonic vibrations in the mouth. Nor is it a sticky monster, mind, being light bodied, low in heat and, dare I say, easy to drink. Bourbon's sweet vanilla is quite absent from the picture. It tastes matured all right, but not of anything in particular that it's been matured in. Instead I get quite a savoury umami impression, in the anchovies-and-shiitake vein.

Given a moment or two to warm up, the underlying stout makes a bit of an effort, bringing some dark chocolate and light-roast coffee. That's pretty much as complex as it gets, however.

Clearly this has been designed, and priced, for the special-occasion market. Anyone new to big barrel-aged stout and apprehensive about what it brings may find themselves enjoying how accessible it is. I couldn't shake the feeling that it's rather bland given the specs. I don't want a sickly bourbon bomb but I do want more substance and more character than this displays. Perhaps releasing it fresh would have been the better move.

States of mind

It's off to the USA but without leaving Derbyshire today, courtesy of Thornbridge.

Starting on the west coast, Frisco is a California common, a market largely cornered by Anchor Steam but which I guess brewers liking making as a technical exercise. I certainly can't imagine other ones being popular with the drinking public, beyond tickers like me. This looks lovely in the glass, though the clear golden hue immediately put me in mind of bitingly citric IPA, even though I knew that's not the offer. That said, there's a beautiful floral aroma telling me that hops will feature, and it's there in the flavour too: rose petals and lavender with a dusting of lemon sherbet on the end. That's pleasant, in quite a different way to Anchor Steam, but I think this one is a little lacking on the malt front. It tastes much lighter than I'd expect for 5% ABV. It's probably better to think of it as a clean, simple and fizzy American-style pale ale, and I enjoyed it on those terms.

If California common is rare, Kentucky common is rarer still. The only one I've encountered is the much-missed one that Wicklow Wolf created in their early days. While that was dark, The Colonel is amber-coloured and I can't be bothered finding out which is more authentic. This one has a lot more malt character than the above, from the sweet biscuit aroma to the Veda and fruitcake flavour. The hop varieties are old-school American ones, but guessing blind I'd have said they were Germanic: there's a noble green quality to the bitterness here. It took me a while to figure this one out: it's not brash or any way distinctive, but there's a gentle elegance to it, the chewy malt balanced by both that grassy bite and a dry grain-husk side. There's enough tannin for me to suggest that English bitter is its nearest taste-a-like, though it could be mistaken for a Vienna lager also. The ABV is again 5%, but here it's much more apparent, resulting in a classy and satisfying sipping beer.

Given the on-the-nose naming at work, Dancing Horses ought to be a Vienna lager, but it's actually a California-style IPA, brewed in collaboration with Track of Manchester. Californians wouldn't normally brew their IPA at only 5.5% ABV, but that's what they've done. It does at least look like Sculpin, with the classic bright golden body topped by a healthy layer of fine white froth. Grapefruit aroma? Check. It's a delightfully dry number, with the malt serving only to give the hops a base. The hopping isn't harsh, but packs just the right amount of wallop to be enjoyable, mixing sharp citrus with piney resin and crunchy cabbage leaf. The label promises pineapple, melon and passionfruit, but I get none of that: it's pine and grapefruit all the way, and frankly that's perfect. I might like a point or two of extra strength, but otherwise this walks the walk along Venice Beach and over the Golden Gate Bridge (I've never been to California). Collaboration brews have a tendency to be way-out and wacky, whereas this has all the understated quality of a core beer.

That was a bit of fun: two unusual styles and one classic, all done with the standard Thornbridge attention to detail and quality. We're in a very different beer world to the one in which they started in 2005, but they've still definitely got it.

Can you dig it?

The Bronze Age archaeology of Ireland gave Lough Gill branding inspiration for a series of barrel-aged imperial oatmeal stouts released in late 2021. Boann provided the barrels and the specs of each beer look quite similar to each other with only minor tweaks. 13% ABV is the standard, so I guess you're not meant to chain-drink them in one sitting and complain that they're too similar to each other. Oh well.

Spear is numbered 1 in the sequence and doesn't have any embellishments listed: just a straight imperial oatmeal stout aged in whiskey barrels. It's an orthodox black colour and there's a gentle brush of dark sherry on the nose. Boann's flagship whiskey, The Whistler, is very sherry-forward and I'm a big fan, so that bodes well. A silky mouthfeel leads on to an explosion of flavour: there's the sherry again, this time bundled up with pralines, plus a fruitier Marsala wine effect and a strange but charming twist of thyme and dill on the finish. It is, more than anything, luxurious. I'm not a presentation fetishist by any means, but this tastes like something that should come from a corked nip bottle with a ribbon on it, signed by the brewer. I almost typed that the balance of whiskey and stout here is perfect, but it's not: the whiskey is quite dominant, but I really like that about it. And the oatmeal is definitely pulling its weight with the texture. I found it hard to believe any of the others could be as good as this. So thought I'd better check.

Here we go, then, with Torc. There's no reason to suppose the base beer is any different to the above, but now we have the addition of toasted coconut and Madagascan vanilla. You'd wonder what was wrong with the vanilla they grow in Sligo. The coconut makes an early appearance in the aroma, covering any sherry, so I'm immediately wary. And yeah: coconut flavoured, a little bit of coffee but not too much. The whiskey peeps out timidly as it warms but is far from the headline act. Overall, it's balanced, nuanced, well-made, enjoyable, but nowhere near as good as the beer above. I'd be perfectly happy with it had it not been part of a series, but taken like this it just seems inferior. Of course, the brewery is the winner in this: I bought two cans not just one, but won't somebody think of the beer?

The decider for this experiment is Lunula, and this time we have hazelnuts and cocoa nibs to deal with. Go on then. I think I get actual whiskey in the aroma this time: it smells barrel-aged, though not novelty-infused. There's more of a burn to the foretaste here: it's still 13% ABV, but that the massive strength wasn't manifest in the others is a testament to them. It's not obtrusive here, though. Oil from the nuts and and add-on chocolate flavour can be tasted, but I don't know if I'd have noticed them unprompted. That's a good thing: it shows that the various elements are well integrated and nothing clashes. Other than that initial burn, I get the least amount of sherry/whiskey from this, but I still preferred it to the last one. The add-ons here are subtle and don't interfere with the big stout being a big stout. Still I don't think they make this an improvement on the original.

This is a pure classy set of beers. They may look pitched as a novelty, but there's nothing that doesn't work about any of them. I would like to give specific praise for not making me deal with a waxed bottle cap. I was suspicious of the €5.50 price tag on each small can, but there are plenty of breweries doing not-as-good beer for a higher price, so these are good value too. The "enhanced" ones aren't as good as the original, but there's not much in it. I thoroughly enjoyed all three. And there is a fourth. If I find Shield I will review it separately. I'm reasonably sure it's lovely.

On the skids

Sierra Nevada beers usually arrive here in sets, but it's a solitary can of IPA today. Ski-themed Powder Day might be a bit of an experiment: the use of lupulin powder gives it its name and I don't think that's a regular Sierra Nevada feature.

Comparison with Torpedo is inevitable as it's a similar strength at 7.7% ABV, and also looks to be very much on a west coast trip: clear and amber coloured. The aroma is on the fruity side, however: a soft and mellow waft of cantaloupe and chew sweets. The flavour continues in that vein, adding in a weighty malt sweetness that's entirely in keeping with the strength. What's missing here and not in Torpedo is a proper bitterness. There's a mild bite, no more than a nibble, in the finish, but it really feels to me that something is missing there.

Despite the hefty feel and tropical topnotes, this is no fluffy New Englander, and I'm sure the brewery didn't mean it to be. But neither is it a punchy west-coast IPA of the sort Sierra Nevada is famous for. What you get instead is something strong, dangerously easy-drinking, but ultimately rather bland. Time to go back to real hops, lads.