Who's your daddy?

In that this blog is the nearest thing I have to a child, today's the day I get to take it out for a first legal drink. It's 18 years since I started, and I'm not seeing any reason to stop yet.

To mark the occasion, a brewery that has been there almost since the beginning, and has certainly represented the changing nature of Irish beer and the diversity which now comes with it: Galway Hooker. Their limited editions had been quiet for a while but have returned with Black Tide, a blackcurrant porter.

The strength is extremely modest at 4.2% ABV and it's pale with that, a reddish brown, some distance from black. Still it smells roasty, like a proper porter, one significantly stronger. The flavour follows that along similar lines, leading with well-done toast and the crispy bit from roast meat. Anyone expecting a syrupy twang from the blackcurrant will be disappointed, or relieved. Probably relieved. For the record they used real fruit rather than concentrate, which may be why the beer doesn't really taste of that. Only the faintest forest berry note arrives at the end, equal to a parallel pinch of greenly bitter hops.

Galway Hooker is one of those breweries at its best doing classically-styled beers. Market dynamics pushes it into making novelties like this and they've managed to instil a lot of understated classical elegance into it. It's an approach I approve of highly. While it's fun to find them making new beers, I think I'd be buying my eldest a pint of their pale ale to start with.

Bandwagons west

Did we really need another extension to Sierra Nevada's "Little Thing" series? Especially since this one is called Juicy Little Thing: wasn't juiciness the whole point of the original, and still best, Hazy Little Thing? As we all know by now, yeast technology has moved on, hop optimisation is the name of the biochemical game these days, and Sierra Nevada has no intention of being left behind.

The beer is 6.5% ABV, so only subtly different from the original's strength. It positively glows in the glass, a radiant tropical-sunset orange. For all the haze and purported juice there's not much of an aroma, and what's there is on the savoury side. The flavour is very dull. It had been in the can for a little over two months, which shouldn't be enough to kill hop subtlety altogether so I can only conclude there wasn't much to start with. In place of juice I found a sickly orange cordial, dried onion and a sort of stale plasticky twang, like you might find in a cheap and nasty German lager. It's very disappointing but is at least in keeping with most of the other secondary Little Things by being not worth drinking. One can rarely fault Sierra Nevada's consistency.

Another unfathomably fashionable IPA sub-style is cold IPA, and the brewery has given their fabulous Torpedo the lager yeast treatment to create Cold Torpedo. "Ultra-crisp and clean for peak drinkability" goes the blurb. Drinkability is not what I come to resin-bomb Torpedo for, so I was wary. Is this another ill-advised and unnecessary brand extension? I'm going to say "no". It is undoubtedly lighter than real Torpedo, and paler too, but the high-octane hop explosion is retained, and a certain amount of crispness suits it. It's still bitter and resinous, but without the weighty malt backing you get more of the fruity side: pith and zest, not just the oils. Lime and grapefruit gives way to apricot and cantaloupe. It's still a powerhouse, but on a more advanced and complex level. It makes for an interesting companion piece to Torpedo, which is what brand extensions ought to be.

Still, if Sierra Nevada are going to insist on chasing passé IPA trends, how about throwing us a black one now and again?

On the straight and narrow

Festival time at JD Wetherspoon rolled around again in late March. As usual, I had a few preliminaries before it got under way.

That started in Keavan's Port with Lancaster Brewery's Lancaster Red. At 4.8% ABV it's a bit on the strong side for this sort of thing, though it looks well: a clear deep garnet shade. As one might expect, malt is how it rolls, at least at first. Caramel and chocolate arrive early, set on a dense body. There are some brief cherry and strawberry notes but then a sudden serious turn where a hard and sharp acidic bitterness dominates from the middle right to the end. I enjoyed the beginning, and I guess I should appreciate that it's no vapid and bland red, but the bitterness is too much for me. There are nicer ways to do red ale.

Next time I was in they had a new one (to me) from Oakham: Bishop's Farewell, a golden bitter at 4.6% ABV. I figured Oakham wouldn't let me down and they didn't. This is quite full-bodied with a floral mix of perfume and honey; predominantly sweet but with the bitterness turned up just the right amount to add a drying crispness. The subtleties go on for miles, too: black pepper and Earl Grey tea on the lucky sips; a wash of soap on the less lucky ones. I'm guessing the brewery's complicated yeast cocktail is the secret to getting all this out of basic beer ingredients. It's a great example of why English cask ale is worth chasing, yea even unto the bowels of Wetherspoon on a Thursday night.

A new brewery for me next: Goddards of the Isle of Wight. The beer delights in the name of Fuggle-Dee-Dum and is a resolutely brown bitter. I was not expecting innovation here. Still, it's rather good. The front flavour is a brambly blackberry autumnal fruitiness, but not too sweet, departing the palate quickly, leaving only a faint echo of itself in the aftertaste. It's not a flavour profile I would associate with Fuggles, which I'm chalking up as a major plus point as I'm not usually a fan of the hop. At 4.8% ABV there's a bit of heft to this but it's still entirely sessionable, doing all the balance and complexity I was looking for. A very pleasant surprise, then, on several fronts.

The next one was also 4.8% ABV: Green Jack's Lurcher stout. It looked great from the outset, being properly black with the stereotypical creamy off-white head. The aroma is less on the mark, giving me worrying and sickly buttery esters like a wonky brown bitter. Thankfully they don't materialise in the flavour, blending in with the toasty roasty elements to create a rounded and balanced affair, leaning towards the sweeter biscuits and caramel side, though edging it with a bite of charcoal and breadcrust. This doesn't compare well to Brehon's Black Hills, often to be found on cask in my local Wetherspoons, but it's a valiant effort.

For St Patrick's Day, the chain teamed Blacks of Kinsale up with Adnams to brew Blacks Irish Red, a red ale at 4.4% ABV. When I ordered it, something golden and lager-like was served, which was confusing. The mystery was solved, I hope, when I later asked for Harviestoun Bitter & Twisted and was given the pictured pint. This looks like a red so I'll review it as one. The signature Adnams tannic dryness is apparent, making it taste not dissimilar to their bitter. There's a slightly sulphurous spice too and a chalky mineral finish. You have to work to taste the red, which is represented by small portions of ripe raspberry and soft caramel. Ronan and Fergus may have been supervising the brew but the Adnams house yeast took firm charge when they left the room.

And so to the festival proper. My first festival special was in the unlikely surrounds of The South Strand, a branch I'm not normally in and which tends to do poorest of all the Dublin ones as regards beer range. Here, not only had they a festival special but one of the international collaborations: Freddy Export, from a recipe by Belgium's Brombeercompagnie and brewed in Banks's. It's 4.6% ABV and badged as an IPA but I didn't get much of a hop punch from it. Instead it's much gentler, showing notes of light peach and honey set on crisp malt biscuit. It tastes how it looks: pale golden, bright and clean. While it's no world-beater (the JDW festivals don't seem to have those any more) it's a charming and understated session beer. One which ran out when a second round was called for. Ah lads...

When I got to The Silver Penny I began with Blind Jack by Rooster's, described as an amber rye ale but very definitely golden. It's 3.7% ABV and smells of long childhood summers, all icepops and bubblegum. The flavour expands on that further, reminding me of lemon ice lollies or sherbet, with a subtle spritz of floral perfume. Seeking something from the rye, I note merely a faint spicy hint in the finish, though at the possibly-imagined level of intensity. Regardless, there is a balancing bitterness which further enhances the drinkability of an already clean and quaffable golden ale. Job done.

To darker things next, and an unfamiliar brewery: Cumbria's Kirkby Lonsdale. 1822 is a brown bitter of 4.3% ABV. Is it my imagination or is bitter getting stronger? Ones above 4% used to be rare. There's not much going on in the aroma, only some lightly roasted notes. The flavour leans into chocolate in a big, and possibly inappropriate, way. I'm not sure whether it's progress to have bitter which tastes of mild but, you know what? I'll take it. This is simple, smooth, unchallenging stuff. I'll always be on Team Pale 'n' Hoppy but don't mind when Brown 'n' Malty isn't laid on too thick. In the right circumstances I might even consider a second of these.

And on to the second of the international guests: Reeds, a British-style red ale created by Sudwerk in Switzerland and brewed for the festival at Adnams. Though clear, it's a dark brown shade and smells a little hot, of marker pens and pear drops. Thankfully the flavour doesn't go the infected route and it tastes more like something Belgian, maybe a dubbel or bruin. It's only 4.4% ABV so there's a thinness not usually found in dark Belgian beer. Would it be uncharitable to describe it as reminiscent of Leffe Bruin? In the manner of industrial beer it is clean and easy drinking, lacking complexity in a way that's tantalising -- suggesting they could have brewed something bigger and bolder but chose not to. A touch of apple on the finish suggests those Belgian esters without saying it out loud. This is OK. At its home brewery it's brewed a little stronger and I can see how it might need that boost to bring the flavour out more.

A special shout-out to the staff at the 'Penny who couldn't find the third-pint glasses so poured me three halves for €2.40. And they say this place doesn't do service.

I've been a fan of Theakston's since my early days exploring English beer so was pleased to see one of theirs on the roster the next time I came back, and an IPA no less: Double Cross. The alarm bells should have started when I noticed it was only 4.2% ABV but rang clear when it arrived brown. Or auburn, if you want to be nice. I like the colour, but not so much for an IPA of any stripe. Sure enough, the flavour proved to be very close to how I remember Theakston Best Bitter tasting. That is, dry and tea-like with a faint echo of summer fruit -- strawberry and raspberry in particular. What might have been intended as a floral flourish in the finish comes across as a little soapy, but doesn't ruin it. This is OK-ish, but not what I was after in an IPA. Double Cross. The clue's in the name.

Cask California common is a rarity, and next was Steam from London's Redemption. It works too: the format really suits a malt-forward style like this and you get lots of crisp toast character. The carbonation level is surprisingly high, but I think that works in its favour too. In addition to the toast, there's a fresh hop bite behind it, predominantly just bitter but with a certain pithy American grapefruit flavour as well. The style can be a little drab but this example has a very decent level of complexity. Something to keep both Real Ale drinkers and, err, 19th century gold prospectors happy.

I followed that with Totemic by Moorhouse, an American style amber ale at 4.8% ABV. If it's hopped to American levels, the cask has swallowed most of that, leaving just some weedy resinous traces behind. In front, there's a rounded and smooth sweet cookie effect which is much more typical of the style. And although it's sweet, and a little on the heavy side, there's enough of a dry element to keep it drinkable and avoid any risk of it turning cloying. So while I think this compares poorly with most American-style amber ales, it's a cut above what tends to get pushed out as "red ale" in both this country and the one next door.

And then, instantly, all the festival beers disappeared from the Dublin branches a day before the event was due to end. Maybe they bought exactly the right amount of beer, though I would be surprised. Overall there was enough decent stuff in the above to keep me happy, and no outright disasters. I still miss the token 7-8%er that used to lurk at the bottom of every programme. Bring that back.

Card carrying

I had been keeping up with the beers from the revived Post Card brand but somehow missed their Custom House pale ale. When I noticed, and bought one, it was only a couple of months from the best before. It still had plenty of aroma, though: a zesty lemon freshness coming from the clear pale yellow liquid. It's a light 4.8% ABV and designed for easy drinking, aimed at, according to the can, "those who might not like too many hops". It tastes a lot of hops, however, presenting a sharp bitterness and thickly resinous oils. The dankness leads on to a more savoury white-onion effect. This is decent but definitely not the free-wheeler it's marketed as: for proper hop aficionados who don't mind a bit of old school bitterness.

It's perhaps surprising that more Irish breweries don't have a potato-starch stout, but here's one now: The Forty Foot. They claim it's not a gimmick but helps "balance the flavour" between malt and hops. Hmm... It looks well, being properly black, and there's a considerable bitter and herbal hop aroma. The flavour changes direction somewhat, introducing dark chocolate and sticky treacle first, with the hops -- green and vegetal -- arriving later. The texture is dense and satisfying, feeling like more than its 5.5% ABV. Gimmicky ingredients aside, this is delightfully very old fashioned, classic even. Perhaps the spuds really have balanced the sweet and bitter sides, because there's lots of both and they don't get in each other's way. Nicely done.

Last summer the brewer released a pair of one-off seasonals which included a black IPA. It looks like that one might be back under a new year-round label, as Bull Wall black IPA is the same 6.8% ABV. Does it suffer from the same lack of hop wallop? Yes, a little. They do state on the can that it's in the New England sub-genre because of the yeast used, so perhaps I shouldn't be expecting much bitterness. I would still like some, though. There is at least some decent hop flavour in with the roast: floral and perfumey. It's pleasant as it goes, but is just missing that extra poke that makes black IPAs a favourite of mine.

It's all very maritime so far, but we move inland for the last one: Broom Bridge, a "wee heavy" that was produced for Christmas but has been languishing in my beer fridge ever since. It pours thickly, reflecting its 7.5% ABV and more. I didn't get much of a sense of it from the first sip so allowed it to warm up a while. The aroma is quite dry: I expected toffee but got brown bread instead. It is sweeter to taste, however, just not to the extent I thought it would be. Sipping gingerly I get jam and candy -- sweetly suggesting fruit without tasting of any specific ones. With that comes a lightly tart tang and a little bonus warmth. This is subtle in a way that strong Christmas beers tend not to be, and it's up to the drinker to decide if that's a feature or a bug. I have to say, cliché and all that it is, I would have liked more of the toffee and caramel side. The jammy fruit is fine, but it needs company.

Before I sign off, just to note that the brewery seems to have kicked that lumpy phenomenon which was making some of the earlier releases look awful: these were all spotless in the glass. I hope the arrangement with Farrington's is working out for them because I'm enjoying the results. Where will they take us next?

Two big lads from Galway

This pair of whoppers from Galway Bay Brewery arrived simultaneously in late March. When I noticed they were on draught side-by-side in Against the Grain, I went in to try them out.

The lighter of the two is Richer Sounds, a double IPA of 9.5% ABV. To my palate, this has a lot in common with the brewery's flagship DIPA, Of Foam & Fury, though I can't be more specific on which version of that recipe. I mean it as a compliment, however. It's very much classically constructed in a 2013 sort of way, starting on a heavy yet clean malt base, one which leaves a lovely warming glow in its wake. Onto this is piled heaps of citrus bitterness, and I picked out sharp lime in particular. There's nothing else fancy that this does, and certainly no flaws or off-flavours. It's simple but very impressive. If it's a retro powerhouse you're after, here's the beer.

Stronger still is Resin & Rye at 10.7% ABV. They've called it a barley wine rather than a rye wine, so there must have been enough rye to make the name but not change the style. In the glass it's a clear copper colour. The foretaste is pleasingly fruity, offering dry cherry skin and raisin to begin. The malt comes next, toasted and biscuit-like, and then a huge rasp of bitter metal and resin, scraping across the tongue. The brewery had this badged as "American barleywine" so I was fully expecting Bigfoot-like grapefruit notes, but it doesn't have that. It's rounder, mellower and more mature-tasting, suggesting an influence that's English rather than American, to my mind. Regardless, it works, and the result is a very satisfying night-finisher.

In a beer world of relentless hazy IPA, pastry stout and soured fruit beer, Galway Bay has once again shown that the old ways (2013) are the best. I really hope there's a market for products like this because the quality and enjoyment levels are unimpeachable.

On the rebound

It's been a while since I had any Boundary beers on here, so let's get a rake of them logged and blogged.

We'll start (broadly) sour with the 4.5% ABV To Here Knows When. They're calling this a Berliner weisse though honestly I think "pastry sour" would be more appropriate, despite the lack of lactose. The added ingredients are cherry, plum and tonka bean, and I think it's the latter in particular which gives it a cakey sweetness. The tonka mince-pie effect is most of what's going on, with the fruit playing second fiddle in the background. It took me a few sweet mouthfuls before I noticed it's actually very light-bodied and fizzy: the flavour is that of a thick and smooth beer. It's not an unpleasant experience, but it's an unsettling one. I would be happier if tonka went back to haunting imperial stouts instead (see below). 

Today's pale ale is called Life's Carousel, an adventurous name for a pretty basic 4% ABV beer brewed with Simcoe and Cascade. But basic doesn't mean bad, by any means. It's specifically designated "west coast" pale ale, and it is indeed amber coloured and only slightly hazy -- they could have tried harder on the clarity front. I expected bitterness but it's remarkably sweet, with lots of orange candy and hints of chocolate. There's a light and sherbety effervescence which further enhances the candy store effect. The finish is quick, which at least prevents that sweetness from building up, but it's still a little cloying. It's not just for stylistic reasons that this needs to be more bitter. 

The pilsner Dispiriting Exercise seems very much pitched at the likes me. I mean, drinking ones that come in 440ml cans often is quite dispiriting, but I do it anyway. Boundary's is a very light 4.1% ABV and an extremely pale yellow. The head is fine and fluffy, but doesn't last as long as on mainstream continental brands. Fears of blandness are dispelled by the aroma which offers soft stonefruit and a little dry grass: not pilsner, but promising. That dry grass thing -- from Saaz and Tettnang -- is the main feature of the flavour. Normally this would be a problem for my palate, which tends to find it too severe. Here, however, there's a bonus sweetness to counterbalance it, plus a surprisingly rounded and soft texture. It's still definitely a craft take on pils, but it's one that works, being characterful but also refreshing. That's enough. 

Little Wonder isn't blessed with a sub-style, being badged bluntly as just "Lager" and includes rice and maize in the grist. If anything it's even paler than the previous, but they've got their fermentable money's worth out of the adjuncts as it's 5% ABV. It smells quite appley, which isn't a good sign. The flavour continues in that disturbing direction, starting at tart green apple skin and continuing through clove rock and into pear drops. If the aim was to get something supremely clean, crisp and bland, like the big breweries make, it hasn't worked. The hop they've used is Lórien, which is new to me, and the grower says it should taste of melon and cinnamon. While that does ring true for what I'm tasting, to me it's too close to acetyl aldehyde or warm-fermentation esters -- not desirable in any lager. Whichever way you slice it, this one isn't for me, and apologies if that makes me a craft lager philistine.

Boundary has been doing its bit to keep the black IPA flame alight and their latest, Compare Notes, was on tap at The Black Sheep some weeks ago. 6% ABV is a good strength for these, offering a big enough base for the flavours I expect. Sure enough it's smooth and a little chewy, with just a smidge of tarry stickiness. They've gone for classic American IPA effects, beginning on a pure squeezed-grapefruit aroma, leading on to a flavour that combines that with other sharp citrus. Still there's a fun sweetness to the lemon/lime/grapefruit combination, while the roast sits at the back, only speaking up in the finish. Black IPAs can be quite serious with their strong grain-and-hop bitterness. This is one of the fun ones, all spritzy and quite refreshing while still absolutely properly to-style. I wholeheartedly approve and would like to see more of this, and more like this.

Excellent Gif Work is a 10% ABV imperial stout featuring the return of the tonka beans. Usually I can take or leave the unsubtly spicy additive but Boundary has made good use of it here. Yes, it's unsubtle, and the tonka is immediately obvious in both the aroma and flavour, bringing its signature cinnamon character. The base beer, however, is powerful enough to hold it in some level of check. There's luscious creamy chocolate in spades, and a herbal cola dryness. It might have been sticky and cloying without the tonka, but the spicy sparks really help offset any sugary excesses. The long tonka finish gives it two kinds of warmth in the end, the spice and the inherent alcoholic glow. I shared the can, but I don't think this would have been a hardship to drink all of.

Coconut, chipotle and vanilla is a combination I can't imagine comes together anywhere other than in a microbrewed stout. Here, they're in No Comma Before Please, another 10% ABV imperial job. It's quite a thick and foamy one, very creamy and dessert-like, despite the chilli. The flavour's dominant feature is good old malt-derived chocolate, with a bit of sweet coffee oils. The vanilla is at work there. Unusually, I had to look for the coconut, and it is discernible, but subtle. I like that: a reminder that coconut in a stout doesn't always have to recreate the sensation of having a Bounty bar lodged in your throat. And then the smoked chillis are no more than a seasoning, something I'd likely have missed if not told they were there, but there's a sharp and dry catch in the finish here which indicates their presence. You could probably list a load of other ingredients in it and I'd likely find them too. Everything is nicely blended together with none of the novelty ingredients going too hard. This is a dessert stout first and foremost, thanks to the vanilla, but they've put a twist in it to make it more interesting than most.

Take a moment to note that none of this cross-section is hazy IPA. I'm sure I could have added one or two if I'd wanted, but it's commendable that Boundary still puts out plenty more besides.

Beat the January rush

I feared I might have missed the new-year specials when I rocked up to Rascals for an overdue visit in late February. Thankfully everything was still in stock -- shout-out to all the dry Januaryers of Inchicore.

First up is a big surprise style: cream ale. Nobody around here makes them and I've never really seen the point of them, but my continuing unprofessional development is what pilot brews are for. This isn't a straight example, which is good. Instead they've made it a Blueberry Coconut Ale. Does that improve it? Probably. The problem with cream ale is it's generally tasteless, whereas this has a nice dollop of soft creamy coconut and a gentle berry tartness which I don't think I could have identified unaided but adds a different character and balances the coconut sweetness well. Perhaps cream ale is the way to go with this: a base so dull it tones down any additives. As a result this 4.1% ABV purple job is spared busyness and is nicely drinkable and easy-going.

That was number 74 in the Rascals pilot series. 75, then, is called Campfire Brown. Brown what, you can decide for yourself: it's cold fermented. With the smoked malt and 5.3% ABV it sounds like they're going for something similar to Schlenkerla Märzen, which you could say is the archetype of smoked brown lager, but you probably shouldn't. If that's what they were aiming at they haven't hit it. This is sweet, very much like a typical brown ale -- caramel to beat the band up front, and only the way it finishes quickly giving away the lager side. The smoke is relegated to a back seat, so at least there's no unpleasant kippery flavours. Overall, it's a bit basic. Something for brown ale fans for sure, but in a reverse of the previous one I expected something more to my taste from the description.

Luckily I didn't have a description for the final beer of this visit, only that it's a Coffee & Oatmeal Stout and 4.2% ABV. No pilot number. Served nitrogenated, it looked a little pale in the glass: brownish-red, not black. The gas doesn't hold the aroma back, and there's a strong smell of fresh roasted coffee from the get-go. The body is surprisingly full for the strength, in a good way: this could almost pass for something in the foreign extra category. And then there's the coffee. The flavour goes massively on this: the burnt and oily crunch of a coffee bean eaten raw. The creamy texture softens this, making it seem a little like a frothy Irish coffee or a coffee cake. This is the sort of one-dimensional beer I have no problem with: it's all stout and all coffee, and probably some oatmeal, and as long as that's what you're after, it delivers. I like the idea of something as extreme as this being a permanent house beer. I hope it sticks around.

Meanwhile, back at home, a new take on IPA, which is of course just what the beer world needs. They're not the first to try and hybridise east and west coast IPAs, though they've opted for Midwest IPA as the name rather than "mountain" IPA which Odell has tried to popularise. So what do we get? It's 6.1% ABV and brightly golden in a very west-coast way. Citrus sprirtz is the aroma too. I mean, if you're going to lean one way or the other, west is best. The bitterness is restrained but far from absent, and there's a sizeable dollop of satsuma and kumquat which may be the intended nod to the east, but it's not juicy, not fuzzy and has no vanilla or garlic. What we've got, then, is something that tastes like a traditional American pale ale of a lower strength than this is, one where the flavours are bright and clean and accessible but not terribly engaging. I drank it on a Wednesday. It's a good Wednesday beer.

The pilot series has moved on since February but I think that's enough for today. I'll be back at Rascals for their Happy Days festival in a couple of weeks.

Long live strong beer

Today's candidates come courtesy of the clearout bin at Craft Central. I swerved all the unsold American hazy IPAs and went for styles where a bit of age wouldn't be a problem. As it happened, both of these were well within their best-befores, the brewery allowing for a two-year shelf life which was barely half way through. That all seems fair. Both are from Berlin brewer Fuerst Wiacek.

Can one was Dream #5: Baltic Porter. I detected a bit of squidgeyness on the unopened can but it wasn't flat, pouring with a tall head and with enough fizz to stand up to a high-gravity dark-malt body. 9.5% ABV is the strength: adequate, with an entirely appropriate heat. An aniseed aroma tells me that they've aimed for the fundamentals of Baltic porter and hit them square on. The flavour calmly unfolds a heavy roast, like thick coffee dregs, treacle or molasses; a metallic bitterness which is hard though not harsh, and then the herbal side which includes the aniseed and to it adds rosemary and eucalyptus. Oils, grease, thickness and booze: what's not to like? This is pure textbook stuff, in a fancy-dan craft can with craft artwork but tastes exactly like a well-reputed 19th century Polish brewery put it out in a half-litre bottle. Majestic.

Dream #4: Barley Wine is a step back in sequence but a step forward in strength at the full 10% ABV. It's a deep honey-amber shade and hazy, while the aroma suggests densely sweet sugar; none of your hop fireworks of American takes on the style. Wine by name and wine by nature, the flavour opens on a strongly sweet grape or raisin vibe. This fades quickly to leave hard-boiled candy and hot cream sherry or whisky liqueur: something from the back of your granny's drinks cabinet. It's charming in its own way, but not classy like the Baltic porter. I liked the unashamed heft, but I also get why the Americans looked at this sort sort of heat and density and decided what it needed was a boatload of C-hops. I think I would have preferred something more in that direction: the base is great but it needs some fireworks to launch from it.

Great stuff here from the Berlin brewery and I did well to get them for a knock-down price. I would have no problem with either recipe graduating from one-off special to regular rotation.

Pale Black

Black's of Kinsale supply the goods today, mostly at the pale 'n' hoppy end of the spectrum.

First it's a matching pair of 5% ABV fruited IPAs with American hops, beginning on Pineapple & El Dorado IPA. It's very pale indeed, a light-lager yellow and smells strongly of tinned pineapple or pineapple-flavoured candy. That matches well with the El Dorado hops, to the point where I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. This certainly delivers what's promised on the label: sweet, fun and a little bit daft. There's just enough of a leafy dry bite in the finish for it to qualify as a proper IPA, something that not every fruited-up example does. It would perhaps have suited a summer release better but I liked the ray of sunshine it brought to the January evening on which I drank it.

That was followed swiftly by Mango & Mosaic IPA. This isn't an identical twin, being darker, looking denser and hazier. Sweet fruit syrup is there in the aroma again, but there's a fun twist of black pepper as well. That comes right to the fore in the flavour, turning to a savoury, spicy, cedar and pink peppercorn kick. I love it. The fruit sweetness sits in second place behind it, not syrupy or overdone, but not really tasting like either mango or Mosaic either. Again it's just dry enough and bitter enough that I don't feel gypped having been sold an IPA. That spice, though, is fabulous. I adore peppery beer, however it's done, and this is smack bang in my wheelhouse. While deliciously complex it's moreish too and I would have been well up for another straight after.

The next one, Stratasbeer Intergalactic IPA, is also 5% ABV. From the moody portentous branding I thought it would be much stronger. Strata and Galaxy are the hops, of course, and it's a medium yellow orange with a fair bit of haze thrown in. The aroma is nicely juicy, with the mandarin effect which Strata does so well coming through in particular. The body is light for the strength, making for something quite quaffable, while the flavour is not quite as juice-forward as the aroma promises but shows good zest and peel from the orangey hops. That's it, though. The finish is quick, there are no flaws, but no bonus complexity either. I've lost track of what Black's puts out as a core range these days, but if there's a vacancy, this would fit right in.

Next it's a beer I missed on its initial go around so was glad to catch up to: RedRye Redemption. Although it's red, it's also an IPA, so it's a pale shade of red, more amber when held up to the light. The ABV is only up to 5.5%, and I found the texture lacking as well: not the chewy maltbomb-with-hops that this style does well. Instead, it feels and tastes pale, with standard new-world IPA flavours, particularly assorted citrus pithiness. You do get a buzz of dry rye bitterness but it makes you work to find the malt side, offering merely a hint of coffee in the finish. It's a decent and unfussy sort of mid-range IPA, the label promising more adventure than the liquid delivers.

The light fades completely with Cult of the Coconut, an oatmeal stout with coconut chips and cacao nibs. The aroma is pure coconut, concentrated and oily, like in a cosmetic emulsion of some sort. It dominates the flavour, though slightly differently, being drier and crisper, and matched with similarly strong chocolate notes creating a strong echo of the Bounty bar. The chocolate side fades quickly but the coconut lingers long on the palate. While it's undoubtedly fun, it does lack beer character: a bit of roast or hopping might not have gone amiss. This is very much a product of the pastry-stout era, which may not suit everyone, but approach it with the appropriate sense of playfulness and it works.

It was good to be able to say hi to Black's again. They tend not to feature on here as much as they used to, perhaps because less of their beer shows up in Dublin. They've still got the hang of things, however.

Top stuff

I'm trying out a new brewery today: HopTop, based in Budapest. First the fundamentals, then a bit of silliness.

To begin, a Vienna lager called Bécsi Ászok. It's one of the paler ones, I guess, being only faintly reddish with a haze as well. 5.3% ABV makes it a stronger version than most, I think. It's... a good medium-sweet lager. Biscuit is the main feature of the flavour; thin and pale ones, for a refined afternoon tea. No bitterness balances the grain and sugar but it's not so thick or sticky that that becomes a problem. There's not much else on offer; despite being from a "proper craft" brewery this isn't a sip-and-consider beer but a decent, unfussy, quaffable lager. The 33cl can and modern graphics are merely misdirection.

Next is a dark lager which they elected to call Dark Lager. Such things are usually black so it was a bit of a surprise to find this one is reddish brown. The result is a little lacking in roast or crisp dry bite, which is what I was hoping for. Instead there's a sweet biscuit and raisin quality and I got over my initial disappointment quite quickly. While this is every bit a clean lager, though one with a fair heft to it at 5% ABV, there's a rounded richness too. In Germanic terms it's less a schwarzbier and more like an Alt. 

Belga Meggy translates as "Belgian cherry" so I guess this next one is a kriek? It's 4.8% ABV and a cartoonishly bright scarlet colour, though the head is white, not pink. The aroma is extremely sweet, beyond jam or jelly and into some kind of industrial concentrate that's meant to be heavily diluted before tasting. The flavour pulls it back a little, but only a little, and it's the full Bakewell tart with a side cherryade experience -- not so much cherry as a ten-year-old's idea of how cherry should taste. As such, it has a lot in common with the syrup-derived gutter krieks of industrial Belgian lambic: there's still a faint echo of a fully attenuated sour beer lurking meekly in the background. It's not fancy or quality or anything but I have a sneaking fondness for it. Beers like this are what got me interested in interesting beer in the first place. It's one that I enjoyed, but don't necessarily recommend.

The set tops out on one described as an "imperial rauchbier". A reichbier? This is Smokey Blinder, 8.1% ABV and a muddy ochre colour. It smells quite kippery, which is never a good sign in a smoked beer, while the mouthfeel is thin with lots of fizz. That at least keeps it clean -- it would have been very easy for this to be a sticky mess, but I'm guessing I have lager yeast to thank for chomping through that. The smoke flavour, which is the only flavour there is, is nicely savoury with a pleasant hammy effect, just like the good stuff from Franconia. It begins crisply and finishes with a different sort of crispness, like brittle bacon bits. Not only is there little malt residue, there's no alcohol heat either. All in all, it works. You just have to ignore the awful appearance.

I bought these as an experiement to give the brewery a try-out and I think I'll be buying more from them at the next opportunity. While the prosaic styles are fine, I think they have a rare flair for silly novelties.

The throwback

A drizzly grey evening seemed like the appropriate occasion to open this Californian take on brown bitter: Firestone Walker's Double Barrel Ale. I hadn't realised when I bought it what a throwback it is, being the first beer the brewery ever produced, in 1996.

If it's meant to be a bitter it doesn't look like a good one, being dun-coloured and murky. A head forms but doesn't last long. The aroma is sweet, though more in a fruity way than malt: I get red grape and cherry in particular. So it goes with the flavour: no biscuit and no caramel, but a very tasty raisin and plum pudding effect set on a lightly carbonated base. It tastes clean too, with the murk minding its own business throughout. It is just as drinkable and refreshing as a cask bitter, even if it doesn't taste much like one.

It's an unusual beast and doesn't really fit the profile of any beer style I could identify. That's not a criticism, however. With beer fashion moving as fast as it does, it's lovely that a recipe from the mid-1990s is still around for me to catch up with.

Untamed beasts

Time for one of my occasional Canvas catch-ups, thanks to a trip over to Blackrock Cellar, the primo Dublin stockist of beers from down the country that rarely make it to Dublin.

First it's a beer described simply as "golden sour", named Bella and 6.5% ABV. It pours quite lifeless and is a dark, orangey shade of barely-gold with no proper head. They've used white wine barrels for ageing, and I get quite a lot of fresh oak in the aroma, with a tarter wine or vinegar edge. I detect something Bretty at work in the flavour as there's a gummy sweetness, akin to tinned peaches, right up front. Light white wine -- cava or prosecco -- hovers in the background before it cleans off quickly leaving a mildly tart acidic bite. I was afraid it would prove as flat as it looks but there's a definite sparkle here, helping it stay clean. The absence of funk makes it a simpler beer than others of this sort. I enjoyed it, though: it's certainly unusual and there's lots to explore in what it does.

It's described as an "amber saison" but Yera is only a little bit darker than that, and it's a little stronger too: 7.2% ABV. Again it's almost flat but not quite, and again the alcohol is extremely well hidden. Here, they say, the yeast culture used includes their abbey strain and I do get a certain plum-and-aniseed Belgian character. There's a mild red-berry tartness and a layer of soft toffee as well. "Saison" is a brave pick for a style because it tastes nothing like one, nor like any other preconceived beer style really. The disparate elements described above don't really gel together into a coherent whole, the way they would were this Belgian. It's fine, but I found myself wanting much more complexity from it.

The next two are coffee-infused, and for a change, Canvas didn't grow all the ingredients for these themselves but sourced the coffee, ethically, outside of Tipperary, in Africa. I began with Radical Rhino, the lighter of the pair at 4.3% ABV and labelled a "farmhouse stout". Soured stout doesn't usually appeal to me, and this one gives that as its first impression, pouring flat and muddy brown, with a concerning vinegar tang in the aroma. That's the direction it picks and so it continues. Unlike the previous ones with their bit of sparkle, this is genuinely and unfortunately flat. The sour tang is at least minimal, but so is the coffee, and that really should be a main feature. There's a touch of funk in the background, but it's a bit plain overall, watery and thin like a lacklustre Flanders red. This is one of the Canvas experiments that didn't work out for me. It needs much more body to be a stout, even at low strength.

I had to follow that with another along same lines: Zesty Zebra, though this is badged as a "dark farmhouse ale". I'm not sure what the difference is meant to be. This looks even worse, a dirty, dreggy ochre colour, though the sparkle is back. Again, sourness covers up the coffee and I would have no idea there was any in here had it not been flagged. It ain't zesty, that's for sure. This has the same basic Flemish red tartness as the previous one, with a little herbal bitterness but not much else. And again it's OK if your demands don't run much further than that. Drinking the two side-by-side was a bad idea as I was bored two sips in. There's actually a third in the series which wasn't in stock when I went shopping. Perhaps that's a mercy as I wouldn't have enjoyed yet more of the same. 

Finally, 99 Brett Balloons, and it was nice to get proper head formation for a change. This one is all of 5.5% ABV and suffers from the same muting of its flavour as the last two. It does taste of Brettanomyces though: a nice mix of funk, spice and tropical sweetness, but I'd prefer the volume to be turned thoroughly up. It is nicely drinkable, however -- light and smooth with just enough complexity to hold one's interest. Raise the gravity, and the gumminess, and this would be a potential classic. 103 Brett Balloons, anyone?

As always with Canvas, the daring experimentation is part of the package you're buying, and sometimes the things you can learn from the beer are more important than whether it tastes good. The likes of these are very much not for the prescriptivist drinker.