Happy squash

I have become quite blasé about top-tier hyped-up American breweries' wares landing in Ireland. They're mostly hazy IPAs of the sort any brewery can make, and it's entirely unnecessary to ship such things across the Atlantic. But Jolly Pumpkin got my attention when it landed, though to be honest it's a while since I saw any hype about them.

Bam Bière seems to be some class of a flagship, described simply on the can as a farmhouse ale and oak aged. It's a medium orange-yellow in the glass and quite opaque. The aroma is a fun mix of fruit salad -- with pear, mandarin and lychee in particular -- meeting a very Belgian saison spicing and a lacing of farmyard fun. That's a lot of complexity already for something that's only 4.5% ABV. There's a floral, perfume intensity in the foretaste, mixing bergamot and lavender with softer white grape. The body is quite thin and that renders the flavour a little harsh, accentuating the bitterness. It's still very tasty, though. There's too much going on for it to be refreshing, but it still just about works as a sipper. I came to it with a preconceived belief that Jolly Pumpkin is the master of Brett, barrels and all that good stuff, and this one did nothing to convince me otherwise.

The inevitable brand extension is Bam Noire, which isn't noire at all but a reddish brown. The strength is the same and I guess they've merely done a light hacking with the malts to make it dark. The aroma is drier and toastier, at the expense of all the fun flowers and fruit in the previous. The flavour too is toned down. You get a decent level of sourness, like dark cherries, plums and damsons. Then there's a woody, splintery side, with a hint of tarry pitch, finishing dry and almost acrid. This really is the dark side of the offer, lacking the bright and spicy fruity fun of the other, and it's a worse beer for it. There's less going on, and what's there is fine but not at all exciting. I've tasted by-the-numbers oud bruins from Belgium that were along these lines and none of them I would like to drink again. My Jolly Pumpkin has feet of clay.

Still, that's only one disappointment out of a raft of superb wild fermented American beers. They'll need to produce several more that don't suit me to be esteemed less by me, and honestly I can't see that happening.

The wilds of Westmeath

The summer of revived beer festivities continued earlier this month with a brand new event. It was an unlikely one, and all the better for that: a one-day festival of assorted wild-fermented beer, staged in the backroom venue of the perfectly normal Smiddy's Bar in downtown Mullingar. The location was ingeniously chosen: a short hop by rail from Dublin (and Sligo) but far enough to ensure that the only people who went really wanted to be there. I really wanted to be there and bought my ticket on the day it was announced.

Of course, the microbes had to claim their due and sent The Virus to strike down Otterbank, leaving just six brands with beers for tasting. It was plenty for an afternoon's civilised tippling, however.

Saison specialist Black Donkey brought along one from their series of beers fermented with yeast extracted from their local caves in Roscommon, a red ale called Underworld Rua. I wasn't sure whether to expect something malt-forward like an Irish red or tart like a Flemish one, but it turned out to be neither. This one starts sweet, with a cherry jam foretaste plus a little milk chocolate or Nutella, before adding a savoury, resinous woodsap effect. It doesn't taste "wild" in any sense familiar to me, but it shows a multilayered complexity that's very much part of the genre. This is its own thing, and quite delightful for it.

I had two from Canvas, beginning with Sloe Liminal, a fruited version of their own red ale, one I've not particularly enjoyed in previous iterations. It works here though, and I don't think the sloes have anything to do with that. The base beer is clean and very sharply sour, almost but not quite to the point of discomfort. A thick texture helps soften that a little, as does the minimalist plummy kiss from the fruit, adding a subtle raisin sweetness. It's not an easy beer to drink, but the invigorating tartness was fun for one glass before moving on.

Their Knockshigowna pulled a strange trick, fobbing like crazy out of the tap but, once poured, immediately presenting as headless as a millpond. This is broadly badged as a blonde ale, only 4.9% ABV and brewed using sweet gale, then aged in wine barrels. It has a certain degree of funk, though curtailed by the low strength and thin texture. I got a strange mix of orange squash and Chardonnay, with a grainy dryness as well. It's a bit all over the place and it took me a while to figure out if I liked it or not. I settled in favour, but there are a few things I would like done with the recipe to improve the experience, beginning with a higher finishing gravity.

I've grumbled a bit recently about Wide Street turning out tame beer styles but they made up for it here, beginning with a Mixed Fermentation Saison. This was fantastically floral; a bathbomb of lavender and rosewater, laced with bergamot and peach-skin bitterness, all set on a soft and pillowy body. I had expected something quite hard and serious but it's first and foremost a fun beer, with no edges or difficult challenges. The playful accessibility could make it an ideal gateway into the world of more involved wild-fermented beers.

Such as Coolship '21, Wide Street's long-awaited and much anticipated first spontaneously-fermented beer, utilising the unique microflora of the Inny River valley at Ballymahon, between the Maxol garage and the meat processing factory. It's clear and golden in the glass, tangy but not sour as such. The texture is a little thin, even at only 5.5% ABV. But the flavour was fascinating. It poured very cold and tasted first of only that tang. Given a few degrees, some spices emerged: oily black pepper in particular. And then a few minutes later there arrived a bright and meadowy floral effect of which there was no sign at all earlier. My measure didn't have time to reach room temperature but who knows what it would have become by then. This is a really interesting beer and one I hope to go back to when it gets a wider release.

Galway Bay brought along a special edition of their Hooi Hooi hay saison, this one aged in wine barrels and then dry-hopped with Nelson Sauvin. I wasn't a fan of the original version back in 2019, but the additional maturation has done it the power of good. Gone is the overweening sweetness and instead it's soft and luscious with crisp wheat and subtle white grape following a dry and grassy saison aroma. It's very easy going and offered welcome respite in the midst of all the acidity.

As such it was quite different to Galway Bay's other saison, the new Gift of Time. This three-year aged one also brings the grape, but in a much more concentrated way, tasting to me like a Sauternes or similar botrytised wine. That hits against an aged-oak funk and a surprise citrus sourness, the sort of thing you get from bourbon, minus the vanilla. All this left me with an overall kind of Long Island Iced Tea impression: predominantly sweet, but sharp as well. Very interesting, and also quite delicious.

My final new tick was Land & Labour's latest: Bière de Rhubarbe. I don't have the official description to hand, but it tasted very much in the gueze style to me, even if the brewer is too modest to claim that. The aroma in particular starts us off that way: aged and oaky, with lots of bricky nitre spices. That's not overdone in the flavour, however, which is mellower and rounded, showing signs of expertly managed maturation. The fruit provides a slightly sweeter side, and as such I wouldn't have guessed it was rhubarb, smelling and tasting more like ripe apricot or apple pie filling to me. It still works, though, making for a very classy sipper, and fully able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of Cantillon Nath.

A relaxing glass of White Hag Beann Gulban, a beer I've not tasted in many years and thoroughly enjoyed, brought the festival to an end. I cannot express how welcome this event is: an opportunity to properly showcase some of the most exciting things happening in the Irish beer scene, and to bring the producers and enthusiasts together in one room. I hope it continues, and that it manages to retain the boutique feel that Smiddy's gave it. There were still tickets available on the door when it opened; I'd be surprised if that happened again.

As above, so below

I'm absolutely loving the variety of beer provenance we've started getting here of late -- breweries of all manner of exotic nationalities. I've been trying to make a point of trying a couple from each new one as they arrive. Today it's Argentina.

Both are based in Buenos Aires, though neither were around when I visited back in 2011. First it's the "lost toys", Juguetes Perdidos. Semilla De Maldad is described simply as an American IPA and is pleasingly pale and clear, with just a slight fogging to indicate it has been left unfiltered. The aroma is a lovely mix of sweet citrus -- mandarin and satsuma -- with denser resinous dankness. The flavour goes exactly the same way: a mouthwatering burst of orangey spritz, then a lasting happy buzz of grapefruit pith and pine sap. As befits the name, it's 6.66% ABV and that gives it just the right amount of malt weight to carry the hop bang. And here comes the cheeky bit: the beer isn't really from Argentina, and states "Made in Spain" on the can. I don't mind, because you wouldn't get banging freshness like this if it had really crossed a quarter of the globe to get here.

My guess is that La Pirata of Barcelona is the host brewery. They certainly produced the next one, a three-way collaboration between themselves, Jugetes Perdidos and a Barcelona nanobrewery called Animus. The name is Brewer in Flames and it's a double IPA of 8% ABV with Mosaic and Enigma. And lactose. They state this on the can but it's also extremely apparent from the cloying and sickly aroma. Thankfully that doesn't follow through to the flavour, though the texture is certainly thick and slick and even a little chewy. There's a certain sense of creamy fruit yoghurt about it; bits of strawberry and peach in with the more typical lemon and grapefruit. The can was marked as being a month away from expiry so I suspect there may have been a more assertive hop flavour originally but which has sadly passed now. It's still perfectly drinkable, but I'd say it's a different experience to fresh. I found myself actually enjoying the weighty, chewy side and the dessert-like fruit. If you haven't already abandoned all notions of "IPA" meaning something, here's a beer to finally set you free.

We finish up with an Argentinian take on *rattles the style dice* Flanders red ale. Todo Nuevo Bajo El Sol has a label which says it's brewed for Strange Brewing of Argentina but doesn't say where so I'm guessing that this, too, has never been west of the Azores. It's a bit of a murky one but is otherwise a perfect imitation. In particular there's a lovely oaky, flinty spice complementing the sourness, never spilling into vinegar or any kind of harshness. The soft cherry notes of the best examples are prominent too, while 7% ABV is enough to give it substance without going overboard. I always think that the longevity of Belgian breweries is the reason they're able to do beers like this so accessibly -- practice making perfect -- so it's particularly interesting to find a newcomer getting it more or less bang on. I guess the only thing I have left to criticise is the €13 price tag: Rodenbach does this for a fraction of that. It's still worth it, though: Belgian-grade fruity tartness perfectly executed is something for which I'll happily pay a premium.

Perhaps it was naive of me to believe that these had actually been shipped across the Atlantic. What I got were perfectly cromulent examples of European craft brewing. I hope they have stuff like this in Argentina.

Broad horizons

An Irish brewery that specialises in Belgian-style beer making an eastern European take on a classic British style. That's what's in front of me. Mescan Seven Virtues Baltic Porter is the latest in their series of special editions. It's the proper 9.5% ABV and, with a nod to Belgium, is highly carbonated. It settles on pouring to a very Belgian bouffant of foam over a dark brown body.

The aroma is an even mix of toasty roast and bitter dark chocolate with aniseed overtones. Promising. Bitterness is to the fore, something I always enjoy in proper Baltic porter, though it doesn't go overboard with it. It doesn't go overboard with anything, in fact: the big surprise is how well hidden all that alcohol is. After the initial boiled-veg-and-liquorice there's a little chocolate and some sweeter caramel for balance. The big carbonation is also nicely muted and the texture turns out soft and mellow, not prickly.

In its native lands, Baltic porter comes in half-litre bottles rather than squat little 33s. The drinkability here had me wishing for the full measure. Well played Mescan, let's see some other international styles.

Business as unusual

It's a new start for Dublin's DOT Brew, launching a new core range of beers for (I think) the third time in its six-year history. This time there are five of them, with the first three landing in early May.

Let's start simple, with Solo, a pilsner. At 4.9% ABV and a clear colour, it meets the basic requirements. "A slightly modern fruity twist" is promised, which faintly rang an alarm bell: would this be hopped up American style, or something? That's a no, but the aroma and foretaste delivered a waft of apple, which is more a flaw than a twist. Luckily it's very brief and in no way interferes with the beer being a proper pils. The body is fuller than most, which is pleasing, but despite that slightly off-kilter fruit tang, it finishes cleanly and drily. There's a little spark of sulphur too, adding another strange but still welcome aspect to the flavour. I'll always be a fan of big grassy hops in pils, and you don't get that here, but what you do get is an excellent balance of the accessible and characterful. A properly cold draught pint would be very welcome.

A session IPA is next, called Loose. It's only 3.5% ABV and is a gritty fellow, pale and murky with extra murk lying at the bottom of the can for the unwitting pourer. All that makes me think "table beer" more than session IPA, and indeed it has a lot of the typical pithiness of that style. It's a good pithiness, though, with the mix of juice and bitterness found in a lovely ripe jaffa orange. The chalky dry earthiness of the murk does interfere with this a little, and it's a beer I think could stand to be let drop out into something cleaner, but is more on-trend this way, and still quite tasty. Best of all, though light bodied it's not at all thin nor harsh -- problems that often beset beers of this nature. If you're going to go light, pale and hazy, this is how to do it.

The full-fat IPA is Go Go at 6% ABV. Two kinds of oats are boasted of on the can, and so it's hazy, though quite dark with it; orange rather than yellow. The aroma is lacking somewhat, with a little nondescript fruit and an unsettling savoury side as well. As is the way of these things, it's that savoury thing that dominates the flavour, all poppyseed and caraway dryness. The texture isn't pillowy as advertised but quite thin. All-in-all, this didn't deliver on its promises. Where it's not unpleasant it's rather bland, and while not actually flawed, it's not up to the standard of modern Irish IPA, hazy or otherwise.

Of course special-edition beers are still a big part of the DOT offer. Today's selection begins with General Population, a New England IPA of 6% ABV. It's a dark orange for the style, not one of your trendy yellow emulsions, and the aroma is pure and clean orange juice. That takes a turn to the tropical on tasting, adding pineapple and mango to the picture, softened with an effervescent sherbet buzz. This is backed by a considerable alcohol heft, with almost a burn in the finish: moreso than I'd expect given the reasonable strength. I'm such a NEIPA cynic that I was genuinely surprised how clean it was all the way through, but it is. In a world where beers of this sort are commonplace and everywhere, it's still a delight to find one as well-made as this, all clean and full-flavoured. Haze sceptics take note.

This was released alongside a triple IPA called Silhouette. No haze here: this is a crystalline amber colour with an aroma that's all malt; bready and biscuity. It's quite dry to taste, with a dose of tannins and a slight crepe-paper roughness. The hops hold back, providing little more than a background of oily resin and citric pith. The result is perhaps a bit more barley wine than triple IPA, lacking punch but making up for it with understated sippable smoothness. I think 9.5% ABV is on the low side too, another factor in me dinging it on style grounds. It's fine, though. I enjoyed it as an after dinner beer and I commend it to you on those grounds.

A few weeks later Rhyme N Reason hit the shelves. This is a blend of barrel-aged pale ales cut with a lager. It's a medium orange colour, opaque with plenty of foam. The label saying the barrels had been bourbon before Irish whiskey went into them is redundant: it's very apparent from the huge vanilla aspect of the foretaste. There's even the sour-mash lime effect, and this big whiskey thing hits against the pithy citrus hops to create something like an Old Fashioned, Highball, or similar sweetened bourbon cocktail, garnished with a sliver of coconut. For all the sugar and booze it's only 5.2% ABV and quite thin on it. It's a weird disconnect, the tasting big and feeling thin. Overall it's not the most subtle one of these that DOT has done, and I much prefer when ex wine barrels are used rather than bourbon, but the charm of DOT's signature spritz-meets-funk is still present, and that makes it a good beer.

This was released alongside Let There Be Stout: a beer name that really spoke to me. I should say re-released as there was a version of this on limited release two years ago but I never got to try it. This one is slightly weaker at 4.8% ABV and describes itself as a "straight up Irish dry stout". Can't argue with that. It's cola-brown in the glass and smells pleasingly roasty, in a slick and slightly sweet coffee sort of way. The texture is smooth, belying the strength, while the flavour is fabulously complex. The creamy coffee meets crisp wafers and chocolate chip cookies, before a properly hop-bittered finish, of sprouts and spinach. Straight up it may be, but few brewers make stout of this calibre, and more's the pity. It might be a little too intense an experience to manage by the pint, but sure stick a cask of it on and we'll see.

Of course there's a Teeling collaboration to throw into the mix and this one is called Blue Sky Thinking. I'm on record, I think, as a sceptic of doing things like ageing pilsner in ex sherry and bourbon Irish whiskey casks, and I feel justified by that here. It's possible to taste that the base lager is good: full-bodied, decently bitter. But any subtleties have been smudged over by the oak, which adds signature vanilla, with some toasted coconut and a slight limey sourness. These things aren't bad in and of themselves, but they work so much better in a pale ale than they do here -- see Rhyme N Reason above, for example. The label proclaims the beer to be "super crisp" but it's not at all, and I place the blame squarely on the barrels. So, while this may indeed be "Blue Sky Thinking", such thought experiments aren't always worth repeating.

Our final three were originally part of a box set that DOT released for Christmas and have just recently begun finding their way in the world as singles. Lightest of the bunch is a 3.8% ABV table beer called Think and Wonder, Wonder and Think. It's a pale and hazy yellow, smelling both spritzy and herbal, like a bath bomb or a high-end summer cocktail. The texture is light without being thin, allowing for a rounded and nuanced flavour. That gives you citrus zest, mixing orange, lemon and grapefruit elements, plus oily rosemary and sage. A combination of Sauturnes-barrel-ageing and Brettanomyces fermentation gives it a luscious, gummy quality: white grape and Fruit Pastilles. The complexity is stunning for the strength and I could see it working wonderfully by the 75cl bottle. I drank my small can as a sun-downer on a beautful summer's evening. I hope it brought a bit of sunshine into some people's Christmas.

We Are The Music Makers, The Dreams Of Dreams says the next one, an unusual blend of pale ale and porter, aged in Merlot barrels, finishing at 7.5% ABV. I didn't know what to expect from all that. It's a dark amber colour and smells very woody and vinous, more like Rioja than Merlot. There's a touch of spicy sourness in there as well. The texture is smooth and it feels aged, a bit like a pale sherry, though without the oxidation. The pale ale's hops add a little citrus bitterness to the foretaste before it moves on to a heavy sweetness, just staying on the good side of sippable rather than full-on cloying. I'm guessing the porter contributes to the overall richness though I think I detected a tiny hit of milk chocolate in the flavour too. It's an interesting concoction, and works well as an aperitif, having points in common with Aperol or Campari. I recommend enjoying it as-is without being too concerned about how it has been put together.

Finally, a whiskey-aged extra stout called A Day Without Sunshine Is Like, You Know, Night. It's verging on imperial at 8.9% ABV, though the colour is an innocent dark brown rather than jet black. The mouthfeel is light and gentle and the flavour predominantly sweet, mixing sugared coffee with honeyed whiskey, and not much by way of hops or roast. The mellowness verges on the boring, for me. It's so smooth that there's very little to cling on to; no distinguishing features. It's not a bad beer by any means but at the end of 33cl I had very little to say about it. Perhaps more extreme stouts, loaded with vanilla and spirit and dark malt, have conditioned me to expect less subtlety. This is a subtle sort of big barrel-aged stout.

That's probably enough for now. I'm looking forward to the rest of the new core beers arriving in due course, plus whatever works of barrel-driven creativity land with them.

You don't pass Adnams

An addendum to my post on this year's Spring Real Ale Festival at Wetherspoon, a beer that didn't reach the tap in Keavan's Port until after the festival was officially over but which I was nevertheless unwilling to miss: Adnams Fisherman.

It's an old ale: always a good sign, even when the brewery isn't as consistently reliable as Adnams is. 4.5% ABV and dark garnet in the glass, it smells of autumnal berries and fruits, with damson and blackberry coming through to me in particular. Though lightly textured, it tastes of fruitcake, including a slightly burnt crust on top of raisin, glacé cherries and strong tea, with a bonus hint of chocolate. Its bitterness is minimal and instead it's a tannic dryness which balances any sweet excess.

My pint disappeared indecently quickly. This is another beaut from Adnams and I'm glad I didn't miss it. English old ale doesn't get a whole lot of credit, but in my experience bad ones are rare.

And sure while I'm here, what else is on? Double Gold looks like a fairly run-of-the-mill English golden ale, courtesy of Manchester's Phoenix Brewery. There's nothing plain about the flavour, however: a fun and punchy floral bitterness with jasmine spice and honey cookies. It's extremely summery, but not in a way that's dull or intended for unconsidered quaffing. At 5% ABV there's a weighty, almost sticky, texture which accentuates the flavours. Luckily the balance is spot on and it's neither cloying nor harsh, which something like this easily could be. I don't think I've ever encountered a beer quite like it, and the name makes perfect sense: everything that good golden ale does, but more of it. That's not always a recipe for success but here it is.

The next one is from an unfamiliar brewery: Pheasantry in Nottinghamshire. Another golden ale, Dancing Dragonfly is also 5% but an altogether lighter and more subtle affair. A crisp biscuit base leads on to bubblegum, perfume and a mild pepper spice. The finish is quick and grainy with more than a hint of lager about it, which is what I've long thought is the point of English golden ale. Compared to the previous, this one is silky rather than thick, and while there's certainly a complexity it's not a palate-thumper of the same calibre. It's fun to learn that even a beer style that garners almost no commentary has variation within it. Well, fun for me.

This was meant to be a one-beer post so I'll stop here. It seems I have difficulty going past any British cask ale when it's on offer.

Defcon FUN

I missed this one the first time it arrived on these shores, but it's back, in an even larger pint-can format. The strapline on Sierra Nevada's Atomic Torpedo is "Juicy West Coast DIPA", a phrase designed to mess with the head of anyone just getting into the myriad variations of contemporary IPA. Ah well.

It's 8.2% ABV and looks much like standard Torpedo -- a medium amber colour. It has a very similar resinous aroma as well. The flavour is where it changes. Where Torpedo transforms that resinous smell into a tongue-scorching resinous bitterness, this one is sweet and floral. I guess this is what they mean by "juicy" but it's not juicy, it's sweet. The resin is still there, but the bitterness is very muted, hiding behind meadowy violet and honeysuckle, with a side order of red onion relish.

What's most impressive is how well hidden the alcohol is: it does not taste like the strength. But at the same time it's not an improvement on regular Torpedo; perhaps they shouldn't have used the name. Torpedo is heavy and bitter, which is what makes it worthwhile and it's not a formula I'd recommend messing with.

For something considerably more easy-going, here's another in the endless ... Little Thing sequence of brand extensions. Sunny Little Thing is a wheat ale, doubtless designed to be thirst-quenching and accessible, though it is the full 5% ABV. Citrus flavourings are mentioned but not in detail; so is this one of those American takes on witbier that doesn't like using the word?

On tasting: not really. Those fruit flavourings aren't an afterthought or a garnish, they're the main act. From the first sip this tastes like fizzy orange squash, with an attendant weighty sweetness. The wheat should soften the texture and perhaps also dry it out, but dryness is not a feature. There is still a vestige of hops in the background, meaning it just about still tastes like a beer, but for the most part I wasn't impressed. The taste here has a good deal in common with the German and Austrian radlers for which I have a lot of time, but because it's stronger and denser it lacks their ability to casually refresh.

Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that beers as excellent as Torpedo and Hazy Little Thing are used as bait by the brewery, to get fans to buy new beers with similar names. It's just a shame they seem nearly impossible to improve upon.

Back in the game

My summer of beer festivals began in Cork, with the return of the Franciscan Well's Easter gig, delayed a month or so. It was a wise choice as the weather was beautiful.

I started in Rising Sons, for a pre-gig look at their new offerings, the first being Shield Maiden, a kviek-fermented orange ale. I thought it was going to be sour but it's not. This 5.1% ABV pale amber coloured beer is rather sweet, tasting of orangeade with a mild cinnamon spicing. There's a little old-fashioned hop bitterness in the finish but not much. It's light bodied and that gives the overall impression of a lager with a dash of fruit syrup in it. Kveik yeast may be exciting to use, but the beer it created here is rather bland.

Beside it was pouring The Dark One, a porter. This is also 5.1% ABV and cola-coloured. There's a huge amount of roast in the aroma, and the flavour is fully bitter, with smoke and tar in the ascendant, plus an edge of cherry with side notes of beech nut and aniseed. The mouthfeel is quite thin and fizzy, but for me that made an incredibly complex beer accessible and refreshing. This is pretty much exactly how I like porter to be.

Across the Lee at Franciscan Well, proceedings were in full swing when I arrived at 1.30. Rising Sons was pouring here too, and I went with Heartbreaker, an IPA. Although it's only 5.3% ABV, this manages to squeeze in a lot of the attributes of much stronger American IPA, and in particular the heavy and resinous pine flavours. It's slightly hazy, so not completely west coast, but close enough for me. And while it doesn't do anything fancy or complex, it's very decent.

West Cork Brewing was over from Baltimore, represented by new head brewer Tara, and with three beers all new to me. First there's Spice Island Red, a red ale with ginger, which is not something I'd seen before. It doesn't really work, however. While the ginger is perfectly pitched and gives it a beautiful summery zing, there's a slightly sweaty staleness caused, I think, by its interaction with the toffee-flavoured malt. It doesn't ruin the experience completely but it's not ideal. Perhaps choosing a different style to give the spice treatment to would work better.

The pale ale is called Beacon of Hops and is 4.1% ABV. This is fresh, light and lemony; softly textured so resembling somewhat a witbier. Though fruity and not very bitter, it finishes dry, which makes it delightfully moreish. Just what you want from a brewpub pale ale.

Finally, a west coast IPA given the faux-amis name Cape Haze. It is a little hazy, in fairness, but that's not a principal feature. It's a dark gold colour and very dank in both aroma and flavour, piling on the oily resin. There's a strange but not unpleasant sulphurous burnt-rubber note, and a crisply dry finish. Much like Heartbreaker above, this channels the main points of the style well, and this time at an even lower ABV of 4.7%. You'd never know it was that light from drinking it.

Lineman was in town for a tap takeover at Bierhaus and had two new beers at the 'Well. First there's Stopover, a blond ale broadly in the English tradition -- 5.1% ABV with flavours of vanilla, honey and cereal. The finish is crisp, though not in a lagerish way. This is quite plain fare and made an excellent palate cleanser when served cold from the tap on the warm day it was. I'm not sure what I'd make of it canned at home.

And there was a new IPA as well. No trying to give a false impression of strength here: Green Light is the full 7% ABV and a clear golden colour. It's bright and fresh and clean, and while perhaps a little low on bitterness -- no teeth-squeaking acidity here -- the flavour is absolutely full-on with all the pine and grapefruit you could want. I think I'd prefer it to be a little more challenging and assertive, but it's still lovely as-is.

I missed one of the new Wicklow Wolf beers but caught the other: You Can't Handle The Fruit. This is sour and contains apricot, blood orange, passionfruit and pineapple. I'm not sure there's much point adding lots of other things once there's passionfruit, because it's only going to taste of passionfruit and this absolutely does. A small citric bite in the finish is the only place where anything else gets a word in. Nevertheless, it's very tasty, with a good pinch of sourness and a lovely soft texture. Absolutely what summer days are made for.

Whiplash too was selling rapidly through the beers and all that was left for me was their Stigbergets collaboration To Evil. It's a medium hazy yellow, looking light and innocent but is all of 7.5% ABV. That brings a density and an oily flavour, with coconut prominent in the foretaste before it settles out to mango and lemon zest with a hint of vanilla. It's fine, but for something close to double IPA strength I think I'd like more going on.

The final brewery is WhiteField, their first outing since rebranding from White Gypsy. They had a lager they brew for the Cashel Palace Hotel, a 5.2% ABV job called Sunset. It's quite a fruity one with a peach and apricot sweetness and just a lightly bitter herbal grassy side. The body is full and there's a lovely pale-toast crispness too, giving it a bit of a Champagne vibe. This definitely isn't a by-the-numbers lager and shows bags of character.

Sticking with lager, the brewery has also brewed one as a fundraiser for Ukraine. It's called Resolve and I brought a bottle home with me. It's a kellerbier, which means it's fully murky, an opaque amber colour. The carbonation is high so there was plenty of head, which lasted. A sweet aroma starts us off, with notes of flowers and honey. The flavour goes in a different direction, offering savoury brown bread and a spicy herbal bitterness: rosemary, aniseed and cloves. That's all set on a heavy, chewy body, for the full wholesome and rustic effect. It's quality stuff, an on-point and characterful take on the kellerbier style. Its humanitarian credentials are a bonus.

And that was it for the festival. It was a fantastic day out, and great to catch up with folk I haven't seen since the Before Times. I imagine there'll be a lot of that this summer.

Birthday boys

Two of Belgian brewing's big brands are celebrating round-number anniversaries at the moment, and have released special beers to mark the respective occasions.

The gnomes at La Chouffe are presumably in party session mode and hence have dropped the ABV of their flagship to 5.6% to create Chouffe 40. It's the same hazy blonde, however, brimming with foam and smelling delightfully fruity and spicy in that signature Belgian way, a signature that La Chouffe must be at least partially responsible for designing. There's an oily wintergreen herbal effect in the foretaste, and I read that the recipe contains extra sage, so that makes absolute sense. Behind it there's honeyish candy, spritzy orange zest and some sharper nutmeg and raw clove. I miss the big Chouffe's easy-going heft, and it's lacking in the clean pepper spice too -- something I didn't think was optional with the house yeast. Still, it's a proper party, delivering most of what makes Belgian blonde a fun proposition, but at an extremely reasonable strength. Fair play, gnomes.

Lindemans, meanwhile, claims two hundred years of business this year. The celebration beer is Cuvée Francisca, 90% four-year-old lambic from three different foeders, topped up with 10% fresh and given a year in the bottle to find its feet. The end result is a beautiful honey colour with an aroma mixing enticing spices and strong sweet malt. 8% ABV suggests it'll be a sipper. I don't think it is, though. It's not heavily textured nor weighty with alcohol. Instead it leans right into the gunpowder and brick cellar that I adore in geuze, turning out amazingly dry for the high gravity. Two centuries of training have made the Lindemans yeast voracious because there's no residual sugar here. I tend not to like gueze at this high strength but they've absolutely nailed it this time, all bright and accessible, with none of the saline sweaty side. Past the sour there's a clean bitterness, suggesting lemon peel and grapefruit pith, adding a New World feel which has nothing to do with hops. Regardless, it's absolutely beautiful and a fully fitting tribute to one of the best in the lambic business.

Two quite different beers here, although each showing the great things of which its parent brewery is capable. I expect both producers will be around for some years yet.

The mask slips

Brand extensions are nothing new, and the big English ale breweries in particular are no strangers to them. They've invested heavily in their flagships so they (or their accountants) must feel that such assets are worth giving a firm squeeze now and again.

Timothy Taylor has taken the odd step of turning a pre-existing beer into a brand extension. Once upon a time they had a dark ale called Ram Tam, the pumpclip featuring a hardworking labourer. More recently he has thrown away his cap, peeled off the false moustache and revealed himself to be the beer-pumping landlord of Landlord; Ram Tam now renamed Landlord Dark.

It's a fair move: Ram Tam was only ever Landlord with added caramel. It's just unusual to see a brewery admit it. It looks well, though. I particularly liked the yellowing nicotine colour of the head, resembling a strong and wholesome stout, even if the beer under consideration is only 4.1% ABV.

The aroma is sweet and fruity: lots of very obvious hard caramel, sitting next to softer plum and raisin. The flavour is rather less complex. I was hoping that Landlord + caramel would unlock some new dimension of taste, but I could not perceive anything other than a quite hop forward English bitter -- meadow blossoms and earthy minerality -- spiked with thick and gloopy treacle. It's sticky, not wholesome, and the two aspects don't meld well together. The label promised chocolate and roasted malt, like a proper dark ale, but the flavour doesn't deliver that. I'm curious as to what I would have thought of it before I knew how it was constructed, but now I'll never know.

It's not awful, by any means, and if you're a fan of bottled Landlord, there's plenty for you here, which is of course the point of brand extensions. I had no problem drinking through it but it left me hankering after something dense and dark and properly formulated.

A right bunch of prinks

This Saturday sees the first ever Mullingar Wild Beer Festival at Smiddy's Bar. It promises to be quite the event and I'm really looking forward to seeing, and tasting, what the brewers have brought. This post is a mood-setter, highlighting some recent beers from the headlining acts.

We're not starting wild, though: Wide Street has a straightforward Vienna lager, named in the most straightforward fashion, Vienna Lager. It's got Magnum and Saaz hops, Vienna malt, and you can argue with someone else about whether the crystal malt is required or not. The result is a murky ochre with a parchment-coloured head. It smells quite rough, with a sweet estery pear effect meeting red wine and chocolate rasins. Not what I was expecting from the style. The flavour is altogether cleaner, but the strange and slightly sharp red grape effect remains. There's a certain roasted crispness, but not of the rich melanoidin taste that ought to be the hallmark of something like this. I give it a cautious welcome. It's drinkable, and by golly it's interesting, but it doesn't fit my idea of anything that goes by the description of Vienna lager, and if you're going to name the beer after the style, it ought to.

The next one is even tamer. Middle Lane from Otterbank is one of their straight-up offerings brewed by Third Barrel. It's a pale ale of 4.4% ABV, dry hopped with Citra, plus some Chinook and Centennial. That sounds quite old-school but it's also hazy, and smells deliciously juicy. Befitting the strength, the body is quite light, on that cusp where some would say it's pleasingly drinkable; others that it's annoyingly thin. I'm going to both-sides that one. The flavour is fairly clean, dominated by lemon peel and grapefruit flesh, with a hint of vanilla and a touch of dry murky grit on the finish. It's not a beer which demands a lot of attention, but does live up to its name in incorporating aspects of both the east and west coast sub-styles. Clever.

Otterbank also got on board with the international campaign to support humanitarian aid for Ukraine by brewing a beetroot stout called Resist. I gave an account of Ballykilcavan's 8% ABV version recently here. Otterbank's is stronger still for extra resistance at 10.5% ABV. It's not quite black, being a very dark chocolate or bromine brown colour. I've drank a fair few beetroot beers in my time but never one where the vegetable add-on leaps out of the aroma as much as it does here, all raw and crunchy with a lacing of purple sweetness. The roasty stout side of the smell takes a secondary position. The flavour brings the roast out more: concentrated espresso and a vegetal bitterness which is entirely appropriate for the style but also dovetails neatly with the earthy beetroot. A tiny umami soy-sauce twang finishes it off. The strength is most apparent in the dense texture but there's no heat. In fact it's all rather subtle and balanced for a powerhouse novelty stout. I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed that it does good. Buy it if you see it.

Things get a wee bit wilder with the saison, Little Nelson, by Wide Street. The name comes from the New Zealand hop it uses, along with the fact it's only 3.7% ABV. It's a pale and fuzzy yellow colour with a fine froth on top. The aroma absolutely sings of Nelson Sauvin: cool and juicy white grape meeting a harder flinty bitterness. It's very light-bodied, even given the strength, but the hopping has been toned down accordingly for balance. The flavour offers a funky grassy foretaste, finishing dry and crisp. The saison side of the equation is muted, with only a mild earthiness giving away the style. Overall it's a tasty thirst-quencher and great vehicle for the hops. If Nelson Sauvin is a favourite of yours, don't miss this.

Now it's time to get the bugs out. First up is Idol Eyes from Wide Street, a golden ale fermented with mixed yeast varieties and aged in Chardonnay barrels. It is indeed brightly golden with lots of lambic-like spicing in the aroma, plus a serious eye-puckering acidity. That big sourness is the main feature, given prominence by an excessively low ABV of 4.8%. Opposite the sharp side there's the Chardonnay, luscious and juicy. You only get a flash of it, however, before the acid is back to scour your palate on the finish. I whine about beers like this when they're too strong, turning sweaty and cloying, but this goes too far in the opposite direction, with a little of the harshness often found in big-flavoured beers that lack the malt base to carry it. I can't be too cross with it, however, as it has lots of great sour and spicy features. Being low strength doesn't make it sessionable, however. One 75cl bottle was plenty.

Back to Otterbank for the finisher, a 9% ABV red ale called Time Will Tell, first in a new collaboration series, this one with -- oh surprise -- Third Barrel. Brettanomyces fermentation and wine barrel ageing all feature, as do Mosaic hops but I wasn't expecting too much of those. We're in Belgian oud bruin territory here, with the dark brown body and an aroma that has more than a hint of high-end balsamic vinegar about it. The texture is beautifully smooth, though with very little sign of the prodigious strength. That mutes the sourness somewhat, so instead of sharp cherry, or even vinegar, it's richly fruity, with raisin and plum plus a little chocolate and pudding. This works well as a dessert, where you might otherwise put port or a liqueur: smooth and calmly warming, and a nice place to finish. For now.

See you in Mullingar.