UpDog

It's not "UnderDog 3" or "New UnderDog" or anything else, it's just UnderDog, capital U, capital D, no space. Paddy is insistent. In late June, Dublin's only independent specialist beer bar took up residence on the corner of Capel Street and North King Street, a venue that in recent years has been host to O'Byrne's Beverage House, Beerhouse, and two food-led Galway Bay ventures, Paddle & Peel and Taco Libre. None of them managed to make much of a go of it, but fifth time's the charm.

There was certainly no shortage of patronage on opening night, and all tables in the long slim pub were full not long after 6. Although there was plentiful Irish beer, of course, I wetted the babby's head with some imports.

First of them was the Lapsang Souchong Lambic, the next in Oud Beersel's weird-for-the-sake-of-weird lambic series. As always, the first question is "Does it work?" and with this one I'm not sure. They certainly didn't skimp on the novelty ingredient; from the first taste it is powerfully, oppressively, smoky. As usual, though, the base lambic is assertive enough to shine through the add-on, still showing its earthy minerals and full-on sourness. A few sips in and one becomes accustomed to the smoke and it forms just another part of the beer's tangy complexity. I don't think it's an improvement, though: a little of what makes lambic enjoyable still gets covered up by the gimmick. Once again I find myself respecting the experiment but in no rush to drink the beer again.

We were spoilt with two beers from The Kernel and I went straight for the India Double Porter. I adore Kernel's dark beers and this 7.5%-er is an amplified version of the reasons for that. Dark chocolate meets heavy coffee roast with a strongly floral countermelody of lavender and rosewater. The dryness is almost ashen, but a thick body saves it, rendering it beautifully sumptuous. And that's it: no further notes. I can't imagine I would ever get bored of this beer.

So it was my dedication to you, dear reader, that moved me along to Kernel's Foeder Beer Nelson Sauvin. I wasn't at all sure what to expect from this one. What's a "foeder beer"? A yellow glassful arrived, smelling earthy and funky in the Belgian farmhouse way. So I guess it could be broadly classed as a saison. The base flavour certainly bears that out, with its straw-like dryness. On top of it, however, the hops are in full voice, piling in softly luscious white grape, lychee and peach nectar, plus a complementary peach-fuzz bitterness. It's interesting and fun, to the point where wondering what style it is seems churlish and unnecessary. There's lots going on here, and all at just 4.7% ABV, too.

And then there was Verdant. I finished night one on The First Note, a 5.2% ABV pale ale brewed in collaboration with The Tate Gallery. "A matrix of latitudinal and longitudinal lines, positions and flavours," they say. "Basic haze", say I. This yellow murk is low on fruit, heavy on vanilla and absolutely saturated in garlic flavours. There's nothing special, or different, or even particularly good. The hops aren't banging-fresh or any way juicy. "Join the dots, colour the gaps, dream the dreams...devour the world." My arse, Verdant.

And yet, two days later I was back in and drinking Verdant again. Did they do any better with the IPA called De-Bleaker? Not really. This is a very pale yellow, with little by way of aroma and quite a watery texture for 6.5% ABV. The flavours shows a little grapefruit, with the attendant pepper spice I get from grapefruit peel, before the fried onion and raw garlic storms onto the field of play, perhaps predictably. Another unimpressive showing, and a beer with very little complexity, from a country that can make beautifully complex beers at about half this strength.

One last try before Verdant and I go our separate ways. It's a double IPA called Light Through The Veins: 9% ABV and leaning towards €10 for a 33cl glass. Luckily, it's much better than the other two. While the aroma is quiet once again there's a tasty blend of coconut and pineapple in the foretaste. This flops back into vanilla and garlic eventually as it warms, but it's fun before that: tropical freshness and a comforting warmth. That said, it's nothing particularly different from hazy double IPAs I've had before, and I've had much better, not to mention cheaper. 

That brings my Verdant beer count to seven, and I should probably stop there as their way of doing things simply doesn't suit my palate. Now I just have to wait until the UnderDog menu screen offers me something else.