One-twelfth of a tree

Beer made with a proportion of waste bread in the grist isn't new. Babylone IPA from Brussels Beer Project was the first to come my way, back in 2015. Rascals did it, St Mel's (RIP) did it, and now Wicklow Wolf has done it, teaming up with macrobakery Brennans to create Sliced Can, a 3% ABV lager. As if solving food waste wasn't enough, for every dozen cans sold they'll also plant a tree.

The beer looks like a very normal mainstream lager, being perfectly clear and golden. There's a proper lemongrass aroma, and while it's light-bodied, it's not horribly watery as I feared it would be. Even more surprising is the rich malt element in the taste, bringing a Helles-like cake and candyfloss effect. The herb and citrus hopping complements it, though neither lingers long on the palate.

Without the novelty recipe, this would absolutely pass muster as a tasty session lager, and I'm very impressed at the character and complexity on show, given the tiddly ABV. All this and it does good, too. Maybe I'll contribute a few more cans to that tree yet.

Alliteration and lactose

Today's beers are from the Larkin's brewery in Wicklow. It seems to have been through a tumultuous time lately, including a change of ownership, I believe. But the beers are still coming out and someone is doing artwork for them.

We'll get to those presently, but an early move by the new owners was to introduce Rí-Rá, a basic lager which initially was only available by the case, via their website, in the region of the brewery. Perhaps they didn't realise that Tesco already provides such a service, but a few months later, home delivery was "paused" and Rí-Rá appeared in the general trade, where I picked it up. And it is indeed a basic lager, 4.5% ABV and a little on the sweet side, with hints of clove, pear and lychee. A lack of hop bite puts this more in the Helles category than pilsner, but it's by no means a classic of that. You ordered a lager; here's a lager: make do.

There's a new sequence of Acid Passion fruited sour beers, and I'm beginning with Passionista, with passionfruit, obviously enough. The visuals are very typical: a bright but opaque orange, the head instantly crackling away to nothing. It's 6.2% ABV, with added lactose, and I feared thickness and sickliness, but neither features, I'm happy to say. The aroma is passionfruit, of course, but not too loud, and with a pleasant mineral backing. Its flavour goes that way too: quite a serious tartness, a light but unmistakable passionfruit taste, and then a neat and quick finish. Despite the strength it's beautifully refreshing, and while one could accuse it of being rather two-dimensional, I'm happy with the overall product and hoping for more of the same from the sequels.

The next one looks the same and has very similar specs but uses two fruits -- papaya and guava -- so might be a bit more complex. They've called it Island Fusion. It certainly tastes a measure sweeter, dialling back the tartness and ramping up the syrupy tropical fruit salad. It's not difficult drinking, however: still refreshing and not thick or hot. I do miss the sharper sourness, though. Still, if you came to it looking for a mixed-tropical-flavoured sour beer then that's what you get from this, no more and no less.

More of the same from Acid Passion Pineapple Peach? I  guess they'd given up trying to find names for them at this stage. Hazy orange? Check. No head? Check. This is the dullest so far, lacking a strong sourness but also low-balling the fruit. I'm not sure I would be able to identify either the pineapple or the peach. It does the basics but no more than that: clean, light-bodied, vaguely tart and slightly fruity. Maybe drinking these in sequence wasn't a great way of doing them justice.

Anyway, what were the chances of something radically different from the fourth and final Acid Passion? This is Tropic Thunderberry and, well, for one thing it's pink, thanks to the inclusion of blueberry with mango. It certainly smells berry-like, though I'd have guessed something more normal, like raspberry or black cherry. Perhaps because of the fruit choice, I get more of a sense of the dreaded lactose in this one. It's in the others too, but this is the only one with a creamy, yoghurty texture and taste. That's not overdone, but is a feature. While again I missed the more intense sourness of Passionista, I appreciated the extra richness in this one. It's no jammy sugarbomb and expresses the 6.2% ABV rather better than the others.

On, then, to the IPAs. Each of these is named for a hop so is, one assumes, single-hopped with that variety.

The label of Belma Blast shows an orange and a strawberry, and it's the latter that's Belma's rightly-earned signature flavour. This hazy job definitely smells summery, though as much of meadows and fruit punch, as strawberries. The strawberry is right at the front in the flavour, though: it tastes pink, with elements of raspberry and red cherry too. There's barely a trace of bitterness, with the only minor citrus note being akin to lemon drops or candied orange peel. A gummy texture accentuates this, and fits in with the punchy 6.3% ABV. Overall, this is a joyous confection; a perfect antidote to the gritty, too-cool-to-be-fun sort of hazy IPA. And charging €3.50 a can, not €6+. Further, I contend that Belma is a criminally underused hop.

Had they the beatings of that? Proceeding alphabetically, next out of the fridge was Cashmere Crush, a smidge stronger at 6.5% ABV and looking identical. The aroma is faint, offering a vague mandarin zest, but nothing more. It's certainly drier than the foregoing, but offers a subtle and interesting mix of pear or lychee with a sprinkle of nutmeg or paprika. Throw in some coconut and marshmallow, for the full Mikado biscuit effect. Again, bitterness is not a feature, and while it doesn't have the loudly fruity multidimensionality of the Belma one, it's tasty and drinkable, with no off-flavours. On we go...

Ekuanot Eclipse is our penultimate. Are those blood oranges or red grapefruits on the label? No matter, here's another 6.5%-er, and hazy orange-yellow again. And here's the bitterness we've been waiting for, or so I guess from the pithy, zesty aroma. Ekuanot wasn't in my Rolodex under "Citrus", but that's what's presented. Let's continue. It's still big and soft and fluffy, just like the other two, and that appears to have turned the zest into a sweet cordial or smoothie effect. The slick texture makes it stick around on the palate, and as it does, the cordial gradually curdles and turns into more of a citric acid burn. It's... a move. I don't think it works as well as the ones which stayed sweet and smooth throughout. This one, stylistically, is in that weird mountain zone between east and west coast, which never works as well as going all-in on either.

The set of four ends with another at the same strength: Motueka Madness. It looks the same too, and smells similarly of citrus zest with hints of sweeter vanilla. Usually, Motueka doesn't mess about, being strong to the point of tasting medicinal. Here, it's been muzzled somewhat: Motueka without bitterness is a damp squib. The usual punchiness has been drowned out by a boarding-school dessert mix of blancmange and hot jam. I liked the way the others dealt with being non-bitter IPAs but this one doesn't quite pull it off properly. Yes, it's flavoursome, but the flavours point in the direction of a kick which never comes and it ends up seeming bland as a result.

To quibble about the lack of fireworks in any of these is, I think, to miss the point. With all being sold at less than €4 a can they represent very good value, and serve as low-cost introductions to the sour fruities and hazed IPAs which make up so much of beer's high end these days. I have no idea if the brewery is going to continue in this tack, but I would very much like if the market made room for such a proposition.

Big ones

I'll say it at the outset that Whiplash makes all sorts of beers, even though they've made their name as one of Ireland's finest purveyors of hazy IPA. Today, however, it's largely hazy IPA and everything's high-strength.

First, and weakest, is the 7.4% ABV Looks Like Rain, a collaboration with English haze specialists Verdant. Time was, the can would tell you which hops they're using, but not here. I had to go to their website to find out that it's Motueka and Amarillo doing the honours. I associate the former with a strong kick of bitterness, in line with its German roots, but this beer is very sweet, piling in custard, candied orange and lemon drizzle cake. There's also a somewhat off-kilter spicy side, with nutmeg or pink peppercorn, which I'm guessing is the Motueka's doing. As usual with Whiplash haze, it's all done cleanly, free of grit, dregs and similar common bugbears. There's surprisingly little heat as well, given that ABV. I liked the filling, dessertish vibe, and the overall simplicity and clean lines of the flavour. Slagging off hazy IPA is easy (and fun!) but well-made beers like this do make it a little bit harder to do. 

Around the same strength, using the same hops plus Galaxy, looking similar, but the work of Whiplash alone, is So Will Be Now. There's the same sticky sweetness in the aroma, while the flavour leads with quite a contrasting savoury character: scallions, garlic and caraway seed. The alcohol heat accentuates all of these, and there's no vanilla or mandarin to offer a sweetening contrast. It's not as enjoyable as the previous one. While my problems with it aren't the normal hazy IPA ones, I didn't really enjoy this. Is the Motueka side -- vegetal and almost sour -- dominating the zesty citrus of Amarillo and Galaxy's sweet orangeade? Perhaps. Either way, this isn't to my taste at all. Still, it's interesting to find myself reacting very differently to two seemingly very similar beers.

And a double IPA to finish these: Future Dust is a collaboration with Track. It's the hazy sort, as Whiplash's usually are; and delicious, as Whiplash's usually are. The first thing I noticed, however, wasn't the taste or aroma but the head. Hazy IPAs have tendency to be bad at this, but there's a proudly thick layer of white foam on this one, lacing the glass all the way down. The aroma is dank and minerally, suggesting Nelson Sauvin to me, while the flavour is full-on juicy, if a little on the sweet side, bringing a sense of cordial or tinned tropical fruit. Curiosity getting the better of me, I looked up the hops and Nectaron is the only one I could find the brewery admitting to, so at least I was in the right country. It's 8.2% ABV and with that comes a substantial belly-warmth, yet the fruity refreshment remains undiminished. This is quality stuff: solid work from whoever's job it was to distract the Manchester lads so they wouldn't ruin the recipe.

A small but forgivable misstep in one of them, but otherwise the brewery's excellent hit rate on this sort of beer continues. I never thought I would be wishing for yet more hazy IPAs.

And since we're hitting the powerful stuff anyway, a quick snifter of barley wine as an afterthought. This is Oxen, which is 10.5% ABV and bourbon barrel aged. It's murky brownish red and extremely thickly textured, smooth but presumably jam packed full of unfermented sugar. The flavour, accordingly, is not subtle, but it's far from a mess. There's lots of sweet red wine with a major emphasis on the oak vanillins in stereotypical bourbon style. Although it's sticky, there's a surprising cleanness in the finish, a tannic quality which stops it turning cloying. In the usual Whiplash style this is a very class act. Sure what else would you expect?

Morrigan rises

Black Donkey's limited edition beers are tricky to find in Dublin, but Blackrock Cellar sorted me out with this pair. Both are barrel-aged saisons, fermented with a mixture of yeasts, including the brewery's own Morrigan, harvested from a local cave.

We pick up the 2023 releases with number 3: Yes Marm. The name references its use of Seville oranges in a blended and mixed-culture fermented saison, given two years' barrel ageing. The result is 6.7% ABV and ochre in colour with a fine and lasting white head. It smells piquant and quite vinous, the point where Belgian-style wild beer meets cava and dry cider. I expected something thin and dry but it seems that Morrigan isn't very attenuative, and there's plenty of malt body left behind, opening the flavour on something close to a malt-loaf breadiness. The fruit arrives quickly afterwards, but it's the zingy tartness of white grape and gooseberry rather than oranges. I love it, but I'm a little disappointed that the headline novelty ingredient doesn't put in much of a showing. Maybe there's a little citrus shred complementing the tartness, but it's at the level where, equally, I could be imagining it. Regardless, this is a fine piece of work: weighty and satisfying, while also brimming with wild complexity. I have a particular fondness for these wine-like oak-aged saisons, and although this is more malt-forward than most, it still presses the correct buttons.

Fourth in the series is Hive Mind, based on Underworld Rua and with added local wildflower honey. It's 7% ABV and a dark rusty shade. Both aroma and flavour are very reminiscent of Flanders red ale, with that savoury mix of sour cherries, balsamic vinegar and oaken spices. There's a citric side to the sharpness; a squeeze of lemon juice, and then a chewy breadcrust malt aspect, showing again that not everything has been fermented out. The sourness subsides, and in the finish it tastes more like Orval than Rodenbach. However you slice it, it's very tasty indeed, with lots of different angles to appreciate it from. It's perhaps a little surprising that it's not smoother and rounder, given the 18 months of barrel ageing, but that will likely come after a few more years in the bottle.

After the last lot of Black Donkey beers I drank, I had set myself the task of finding more and catching up properly. This pair shows that to have been a wise move and one I intend to keep doing. Finding them is hard work, but very much worth it.

May as well

I had a bit over an hour to kill before a later engagement, and where any sane person would sit it out with a pint and a book, I went to the nearest brewery taproom to work through half pints of their latest releases. Not that this is easily done: brewery taprooms are thin on the ground in Dublin, but Guinness's wasn't too far out of my way and it had been several months since my last visit.

As always, a welcome taster is proffered on arrival, and this time it was the Cardamom Red Ale. No standard Irish red, this is a big fellow, 6.6% ABV and a murky amber colour. There's a beautifully exciting and exotic aroma, full of peppercorns and sandalwood. It's light bodied for the strength, with lots of fizz. While there's little foretaste, there's a nice kick of the pepper on the end; almost a szechuan chilli level of piquancy. That's set on a rounded and wholesome malt base. It's a little gimmicky, but not too much, and shows that there's a solid beer at its heart. A bigger measure of this would have been no hardship.

I'm always up for an Open Gate pilsner: it's the style they do best. Next out was Mein Stein, brewed with modern German hop Mandarina Bavaria. It's a perfect limpid gold with an equally perfect thick fine froth on top. Here's another solid base beer: an unmistakable crisp pilsner, though the aroma is dank and weedy, more like an American IPA. That was the first sign that the hop has been loaded in, delivering a strong bitterness and an almost plastic-tasting flavour. Isn't Mandarina meant to be gentle and fruity, in line with modern effete beer preferences? This tastes sternly Prussian and it's a bit of a shock at first. It took a few sips to get used to it, and by the finish I was really enjoying it. Not what I was expecting, but I'll take it.

The 5.2% ABV Mango Chilli Ale came with a lactose warning and arrived hazy and orange, though this too had a decent and lasting head. It smells broadly tropical and is thickly textured, in a New England IPA sort of way. That's not how it tastes, however. Sticky tinned fruit starts us off; sweet but still subtle and unobtrusive. I thought I was in for a dud but then the chilli kicked in: dry and hot and raw, more like the skin than the flesh of a pepper. The combination is weird, and I'm struggling to figure out why they thought of it. I don't think it quite works, although I liked the belly warmth and palate afterburn: not things I'm looking for when I order a beer, however. On to round two.

That starts with an Oyster Stout, one with actual oysters. My benchmark here is the Porterhouse one, a velvety smooth lad with loads of milk chocolate and a mild briny tang. This isn't that. It's rather dull, and very much in the mould of regular Draught Guinness. At a substantial 5.5% ABV, the extra strength should give it more poke but it doesn't: this could pass for 4% or below. There's no oyster character, just the faint roast found in the brewery flagship. Meh, the definition of.

Cask & Keg is intriguing: an IPA aged in barrels which formerly held Roe & Co. whiskey, Diageo's Irish brand, and is a whopping 9.1% ABV. It looks innocent, a hazy amber colour. The aroma is sweet and fruity which does nothing to prepare the drinker for a whiskey cocktail of a flavour. I'm not a cocktail person, but I immediately thought of both the Old Fashioned and the Sidecar on tasting: that mix of oaked spirit, sugar syrup and a twist of orange peel. There's a touch of Sorachi-esque coconut too. All of that is very well mixed together and tastes smooth and integrated with no sharp edges. Dangerously easy drinking, as beer reviewers used to say.

Finally, a beer that looked very similar, the Amarillo Rye Pale Ale. This one's a bit of a lightweight at 4.9% ABV. And sadly I get neither Amarillo nor rye from the taste. Open Gate's poor record on hop-forward ales strikes again, and while this has the smooth texture of a modern hazy pale ale, it delivers only the faintest quantity of Amarillo's signature fruit. I also had to search for any dry grass and pepper from the rye, and I found it there to an extent, but not noticeably so. Like the stout, this is a basic and inoffensive beer, not really showing off the headline ingredients.

Still it's an interesting bunch, and I fully appreciate the way I can walk in off James's Street of a random Thursday evening and have such interesting fare on offer. There is only a handful of places in this town where that's possible.

That's more like it

I don't drink much beer from Danish brewery To Øl. A lot of what we get from them is hazy IPA and, through practice and diligence, I have decided that I don't really like the way they do them. In July I stumbled across the remnants of a tap takeover in Dublin pub Fidelity, which featured two beers in styles I wouldn't normally associate with To Øl. Worth a go, I reckoned.

The first is Ratio of Exchange, a collaboration with Oud Beersel which definitely bears the lambic stamp of authenticity, although only a third of the blend came from there. The rest is a To Øl wild ale and a hoppy saison. Dry and spicy geuze minerals form the foretaste, joined in the middle and end by zingy grapefruit and soft peach notes which add a modicum of modernity while still retaining that classical sour feel. One could look at this as a gimmicky effort but the blend has been done too well for that: the different elements are fully complementary and result in a 6.8% ABV beer that is both smooth and drinkable while also magnificently complex. For once I'm not wishing that the lambic had been left alone: here they've done something genuinely excellent with it.

Also on the board was Lay of the Land, a brown ale in the American way, at 5.9% ABV. This is a great style for the mix of rich and sweet coffee and chocolate, against fruity and/or bitter assertive hops. The Danes have got the balance bang-on once again, leading on mocha with an extra shot or two of espresso to dry it out and enhance the roast, and then there's a lacing of cherry and raspberry to add a mild tartness which is adequate substitute for a lack of bittering. The texture is creamy, to the point where it might get a little cloying and sticky in quantity, but one glass for sipping was highly enjoyable.

I would definitely buy more To Øl beers if they were all like this pair.

Brummed out

On Monday I wrote about beers in Stratford-upon-Avon, but one cannot simply arrive there from Dublin; it is a necessity to travel through the city of Birmingham and drink some there while doing so. I arrived at lunchtime and thought to check out the recently-opened branch of the Indian streetfood chain Bundobust, in particular because it now has its own brewery at the Manchester branch.

In general, the beer line-up at Brumdobust (staffed by "Bundobabs", as the staff t-shirts have it) is as good as the other ones, with a dozen and more draught options, about half of which are their own. I don't especially enjoy cream ales but I also don't see them very often so am always willing to give one a throw. The house one here is called Manak and is 4.2% ABV. I can safely say it's true to type for this inexplicably craft-credentialed American industrial style, being dry, crisp and very dull. There's a tiny hint of fruity lemon fun hovering in the background, but otherwise it's a straight-up fizzy lager of the nondescript sort. I couldn't leave things there.

At least not with a house black IPA on the board as well: Pachaas 50, a bit of a beast at 7.4% ABV. The charcoal and rosewater aroma did nothing to prepare me for the powerhouse bitterness in the flavour, one which channels crunchy red cabbage in particular. This is overlaid by an exotic mix of flowers and aftershave spices which threatened busyness but faded out respectfully in the finish. It was served very cold which made for very easy drinking. While it's a superb example of the style and very much delivers what's required, I couldn't help wondering if taking a few ABV points off and serving it on cask might improve the experience further.

Immediately next door is central Birmingham's classic Real Ale pub, The Wellington. It would have been wrong not to call in for just one pint. That ended up being Piffle Snonker from local outfit Froth Blowers. This 3.8% ABV pale ale is a purest gold colour in the glass. Extensive Cascade hopping gives it bright sherbet lemon flavours, plus bubblegum, with a harder tang of west-coast resins on the finish. A very English crunchy-biscuit malt base forms the foundation from which this is delivered. I thought it had a lot in common with other high-end American-hopped British beers, the likes of Jarl and Oakham Citra. It's just as lovely and pintable as either.

Back in Brum on the way home, I stopped by The Shakespeare, a Nicholson's pub near New Street station. At 4.30 on a Friday it was packed. From the handpumps I opted for Heroes by Two Tribes, an exceedingly pale pale ale, looking clear but unpleasantly watery. It's not though. 4.4% ABV is enough to give it plenty of heft and support some bright and fresh aroma hops, making it smell of peach and mandarin. Its flavour continues that theme, adding a tang of grapefruit bitterness to the juice. A tiny pop of raw onion is the only minor bum note. I'm guessing Mosaic is the principal hop here, and it's mostly behaving itself. As a single, on-the-hoof pint, this worked well.

Around the corner is The Sommar Tap, a quirky, down-with-the-kids, joint run by the local Sommar Brewing Co. I took the pilsner first: Scoops. This is one of those that I didn't like but can't complain about. It's another very pale beer and is absolutely loaded with noble hops, making it taste of nettles, celery, chicory and, to me, crêpe paper and chalk. I appreciated it as a well-made and properly characterful lager, just not the way I like them.

The stout, Tanks, is another extremely characterful one, 5% ABV and heavy with it, dry hopped by experimental hop HBC 472 which appears to make it taste of bitumen, coffee grounds, sandalwood and burnt toast. The aftertaste carries black IPA vibes of red cabbage and roses. As such, it's a bit of a workout. I waited for the moment where the enjoyment would snap into place, but it kept me on my toes for the whole half. This isn't an easy or accessible beer, and even as a fan of bitterly hopped stouts I struggled a little with it.

At the airport I discovered that Beavertown has a lager, called Bones. It is extremely dull, tasting like exactly the sort of mass-produced commodity lager one would expect from Heineken. There's a stale sort of dryness, like a soggy digestive biscuit. A little hop-derived grass saves it a little but I couldn't help thinking I would have been better treated by the Moretti on the next tap over. That's what everyone else was drinking.

Finally to the airport Wetherspoon and two more pale golden jobs. On the left, Milestone Fletcher's, a bit of a powerhouse at 5.2% ABV. Kiwi hops are promised, though the aroma is sharp and savoury, with a whiff of funky fermenting grass. The flavour is altogether more pleasing, tasting soft and sweet, of kiwifruit and ripe honeydew melon. It doesn't taste strong, though, and the finish is quick. While I liked it, I found myself wanting more of what it does.

And on the right, Twenty Four Seven by Roosters, a little lighter at 4.7% ABV though also claiming New Zealand hop character. Here's the diesel aroma of full-throated Nelson Sauvin, and while it doesn't taste very complex or fruity, there's a solid satisfying freshly bitter kick that I really enjoyed. There are floral and herbal elements, and more of a malt base than in the stronger Milestone one. While again it's not hugely complex, it's a class act and I wish I'd had time for a relaxing pint but my gate was called just as I started into it. Such is the jet-set cask-conditioned lifestyle.

That completes my beer drinking in England for this summer. Luckily there are more travels just around the corner.

Shakesbeer

Work landed me in Stratford-upon-Avon for a couple of days in July. It's a town, quite a small one, most famous for something else, but I was intrigued by how many different genres of beer outlet it has managed to support. Naturally I sought to try out as many as I could.

Of course, traditional pubs abound. The slightly twee, low-ceilinged and stone-floored, Old Thatch is a charmer, though the pint of Gales HSB they served me was less than stellar. I don't know if that's the pub or the changes at Fuller Smith & Turner down in London which is to blame. At the bottom end of town, The Bear struck me as a kind of gin-and-Jags, golf set, sort of place: sports prints and leather sofas. But it poured a perfectly-kept pint of Landlord. Somewhere in between is the rambling red-brick dining pub The Red Lion, where I settled on the usually-reliable St Austell Tribute but wasn't at all impressed by what they gave me. So, for the beer ticker already familiar with Big Cask, the traditional pubs aren't where you go in Stratford.

The One Elm is a small step sideways in ethos, presenting as a modern and urbane gastropub of the sort that's probably going out of fashion. It retains quite a few grand pub features, though the emphasis is on food and the décor clean and pale and a bit IKEA-ish. I sat out back in the courtyard beer garden and drank kegged Purity Longhorn. The ubiquitous Warwickshire brewery has been making this for a while, and they present it simply as a 5% ABV IPA. It is, specifically, a rye IPA: coloured like one, a deep amber with a fairly dense murky haze. Rye's signature bitterness is promised in an aroma of ground white pepper and fresh green bell pepper. That doesn't quite carry through to the flavour, where caramel and nuts from the darker malt and meadow flowers from the hops are predominant. There is a certain harder earthiness as an added complexity, and I'm guessing the rye is responsible, however it doesn't tip over into being sharp or severe. It's good, though. There's a lovely chewy and smooth texture, making it filling while still quite easy-drinking. I consider it a worthwhile introduction to the world of rye IPA, offering lots of character but no extremes.

Just opposite my hotel was Cox's Yard, a former timber mill that's been converted into a canalside hospitality complex. The bar in the pub building has four shiny chrome handpulls but was only pouring one beer when I dropped in: Origin by Charles Wells, another embattled English ale brand, now working from a new modern brewery in Bedfordshire which they've called Brewpoint. Origin is a down-the-line classic bitter: 3.7% ABV and having the lovely signature English floral garden flavour: elderflower, jasmine and honeysuckle on a base of strong black tea. The finish is quick after this, which dulls its edge somewhat, but no matter: it's designed for session drinking and doubtless works well for that.

There is, I'm happy to say, a micropub. Stratford Alehouse is on a row of shops and very obviously used to be one. At 4pm on the Wednesday I arrived, it was doing a roaring trade, all the beer being served on gravity from a stillage array down the back, with four options on the board to choose from.

For a number of reasons I reckoned the dark beer was the sensible choice and so picked Black Knight, a porter by Goffs brewery in Gloucestershire. It's quite a high strength one at 5.3% ABV, and that combined with relatively low condition and high serving temperature really accentuated the fruity side of the picture, giving me blueberry, blackberry and some assorted Scandinavian berries which I don't know the names of but recognise when I taste them. Cloudberries? Yeah, loads of that anyway. That's set on a slightly sticky caramel base which means my biggest criticism is the sweetness. A balancing dry roast would really have helped the drinkability. But I guess, at the strength, this one isn't intended for drinking more than one or two. I certainly wouldn't have enjoyed doing so. One was fine.

Finally, Ya Bard. That's the name of Stratford's ultra-hip, high-end, beer-shop-with-taps, specialising in all the colourful 440ml cans full of weird barely-beer concoctions. Such venues tend to be sparse and spacious; bare wood, bare lightbulbs and chicken wire. This one is on the carpeted ground floor of what appears to be an 18th century townhouse, stretching from the front room to the rear passageway where a compact bar serves five draught beers, leading out to a tiny back garden. Punters stand about awkwardly throughout, making the place feel like a poorly-planned house party.

Strawberry & Rhubarb New York Cheesecake is the sort of thing that passes for beer here. This one is from Edinburgh's Vault City and is one of those that claim to be sour but are no such thing. To its credit, the murky orange-pink offering has a very real strawberry character, not an ersatz flavouring. The cheese is represented by a softly sweet Petit Filou dairy yoghurt effect. And there's even a crunch of biscuit grain to serve as a base. So full marks for being like a cheesecake; none for being like a beer. It could have been a lot worse, though.

If it's not novelty fruit beers these days, it's double IPA. Pipeline Brewing is all the way down in Cornwall, and they had shipped up some Nectaron Star, an 8% ABV hazy job showcasing one of the current most fashionable New Zealand hop varieties. Or it's supposed to be anyway. To me, this was just another of the usual: smelling of garlic and grit, the flavour packed with vanilla and spring onion. Nectaron is meant to provide pineapple and passionfruit but there was nothing tropical about this mucky pup. It's hazeboi fan service and no more than that.

That's all I had time for in Stratford, but of course one does not simply arrive there from Dublin, or at least I didn't. My journey to and from it went via Birmingham, with a few beers on the way through which I'll cover in the next post.

Four beers from three brothers

Four beers from O Brother today, a brewery which seems quieter than it used to be but is still turning out the product, and across a range of styles too.

First up, a sour ale brewed in collaboration with Bierhaus in Galway, called Lionn Buídhe Bhríghde. The can is low on information but tells us it's 4.3% ABV and dry hopped with Mosaic. In the glass it's an almost-clear bright yellow and smells deliciously lemony, with an enticing mix of citric sourness and bitterness. The flavour is calmer than the aroma suggests, the sourness more of a gentle mineral sort than highly acidic fruit. It's not puckering, but very clean and refreshing, aided by a texture that's light yet not watery. Mosaic's tropical side is present, with notes of cantaloupe, mango and apricot. It's a little two-dimensional, and not in any way unique: lots of breweries make a beer like this. It is a great example of it, nevertheless.

The second one is called Counterfuture though looks very much of the present, being a custardy wan yellow colour. At 6.4% ABV it's medium-weighty but I got little sense that the body was being used to propel hop flavours. While the aroma has some distinctive lime and grapefruit character from the Citra in particular, aided by pithy Cashmere, it doesn't carry well into the flavour. There's a broad oranges-and-lemons bitterness and some New England vanilla sweetness, but all quite muted and even slightly dull. I didn't drink this at its freshest, but I don't think that a big hop effect could have faded out in just a couple of months. Anyway, it's not the best example of haze that we've had recently.

They did much better with Conn=cted, badged as an oatmeal IPA but very much in the haze zone, being that almost greenish shade of cloudy yellow. Although it's a relatively modest 6% ABV, the flavour is intense, piling in pithy citrus and savoury herbs. I complain about the garlic taste from beers like this, but more because it's a predictable cliché than because it's unpleasant. Here the garlic is properly odiferous and punchy, but enjoyable too, contributing to the overall bang from the flavour. My faith in the brewery's ability to do haze well is restored.

We finish on a stout, a chocolate and oatmeal one. It's only 4.5% ABV but they've given it the high-drama name Dark of Heartness. There aren't many new stouts coming out these days so I was looking forward to this one when it showed up at UnderDog. Alas, it left me disappointed. All the things one associates with chocolate and oatmeal in stouts -- the hefty and smooth body, the sweet and calorific flavour -- are missing from this. Instead, it's very dry and very thin-textured. It's as though the yeast has overextended itself and consumed parts it was supposed to leave behind for the drinker. By way of complexity there's a little summer-fruit tartness and a strange cork or wine twang, but nothing to make up for what I wanted. They could have badged this as a dark mild and it would have fitted the style better. It does not deliver as a stout.

A bit of a 50/50 situation with this lot, then. I'm hoping for better luck with the brewery's next releases, whenever they arrive.

Hop soup

Three new ones from the busy brewers of Galway Bay today: yellow and hazy IPAs, because summer, I guess, and all at largely the same strength. The similarities don't go much further.

Sister Cities is a sour one, brewed with Nelson Sauvin, Talus and Citra. They're boldly flavoured hops and this is a boldly flavoured hop-forward beer as a result, the sourness having to take a back seat. That said, there's nothing too distinctive from any of the three contributors: none of Nelson's diesel, Talus's pith nor Citra's limes. Instead, it's all smooshed together into a beautifully refreshing package of juicy stonefruit and citrus, offering fancy lemonade, peach nectar, white grape and red apple: a bit of a fruit salad, really, but very summery. The sour side is little more than a dry mineral tang lurking around the finish, playfully pinching the tongue but that's all you're getting. Overall, I liked it, but the high strength gives it a flabby density which means it's not as enjoyable as lighter and zippier sour IPA, my preference. I don't see the benefit of making it 6.2% ABV.

Sacrificial Oats is rather more typical: a straight-up hazy IPA, brewed with an all-Antipodean line-up of Nelson Sauvin, Motueka and Vic Secret. They're a distinct bunch of hops, and usually I would be able to pick out their individual characteristics, especially if I'd been told in advance. Not so in this opaque emulsion, and I suspect more smooshing has been going on. There's lots of garlic, much more broadly typical of the beer style than the constituent hops, and then a mix of peach juice and sweet vanilla essence. I doubt I would have mistaken it for an American-hopped job but I don't think it did the hops justice at all. It should have been special but tasted like another one of those unfortunately fashionable IPAs.

It looks like more of the same from Evil Laugh, a collaboration with top Romanian brewer Hop Hooligans. Here the hops are American: Columbus, Ekuanot and Simcoe, and yes it is very definitely American tasting. The New England garlic is powerful in both the aroma and flavour, almost scorching the palate with its acidity. Big vanilla is perhaps meant to be balancing but just adds a cloying sweetshop stickiness; a different kind of harshness. To complete the trilogy, a ballsy pine-resin bitterness, dank and herbal and unmistakably Simcoe. I mean, it's not bland, but is in that odd space between the IPA coasts -- hazy and fluffy while also aggressively hopped. It may have fans out there, particularly the Simcoe enthusiasts, but I don't think it really works.

Today's lesson: if you're not going to clean your beer to allow the hops to shine, maybe try souring it instead.

The Hag beckons

It's Hagstravaganza season again, with the fifth festival of the name taking place at the White Hag brewery this Saturday. To maximise my time drinking the guest beers, I made a point of going through all of the host's own new releases that I could get my paws on in advance.

"Blackcurrant-flavoured beers always taste like Ribena" was my thought going into Púca Blackcurrant, the latest in a long series of fruited mixed-fermentation sour beers from The White Hag. This one doesn't look like Ribena, however, being a pale hazy pink colour in the glass. They've included ginger with the berries, and that turns out to be the most distinctive part of the taste, complemented nicely by a serious and sharp tartness which is rare enough in "sour" fruit beers these days, so both literally and figuratively refreshing. Is there any fruit, though? A hint of berry, but it does get a bit lost with the overall tartness. Certainly there's no Ribena or anything else sugary. For me, this doesn't quite have the beatings of original lemon Púca, but it's not far off either. 

On to something rather hoppier next, with Dagda, a 4.8% ABV pale ale. It's pretty hazy, though not advertised as such; an eggy yellow colour with a fetching tall head of loose foam. I get a very modern, tropical-esque, aroma of pineapple, mango, nectarine and the like, achieved with a busy blend of Idaho 7, Citra, Cashmere and Motueka. The texture is New-England fuzzy, though light and cool, on foot of the low gravity. The flavour is softly spoken and stays on the fruit side, perhaps bittering-up the tropicals a little, to the level of peach skin, mandarin peel and candied lemon. There isn't a huge amount of either, really, and it's easy drinking. The massive demographic of Irish people who drink nothing but hazy IPAs will welcome this one which meets all their required points but in a schoolnight-compatible package.

The Answerer is apparently third in a series of fruited IPAs but I have no memory of what the previous ones were. Anyway, it's 5.8% ABV, a mostly-clear pale amber and infused with grapefruit. Well, grapefruit syrup, I suspect, because it smells very sweet and sticky, like sticky sweets. There is at least a solid poke of bitterness at the front of the flavour, one which hangs around drily on the palate, which is nice. The hopping -- Cascade, Simcoe, Mosaic and Idaho 7 -- emphasises the first two of those, adding a different kind of bitterness, all herbal and resinous, rather than anything tropical, finishing on a bite of alkaline minerals. The mouthfeel is full which helps those hop resins stay in the picture. Overall, it works rather well. The added ingredient adds something positive to the taste without lessening the extent to which it's still a proper, if slightly old-fashioned, American-style IPA. Even if it smells like a bag of Skittles.

And then came number four: Aonbarr, with pineapple. While it's the same strength, it's a pale translucent yellow and very quickly loses its head, ending up looking more like a fruited sour ale than any kind of IPA. Initially it smells dry; crisp, bordering on papery. After that, again, there's a fruity side which could easily be either the hops -- just Idaho 7, El Dorado and Azacca this time -- or the tropical syrup. More Skittles, basically. There's a disturbing amount of fizz, which makes finding the flavour a bit tricky, but sure enough, there's the pineapple. Syrup being syrup, it's more like an ice pop or soluble vitamin than actual pineapple. There's a sticky, concentrated candy, element in the finish which adds nothing positive. As with the above, however, there's a decent IPA bitterness too, bringing an altogether more grown-up vibe.  It's not my kind of thing, though, and I'm not sure pineapple works as a complementary IPA flavour in the same way that grapefruit can, for obvious reasons.

Marking brews 1000 and 1001 at the nearly-nine-years-old brewery is a pair of light (7.5% ABV) double IPAs called Centennial Millennial. East Coast certainly looks and smells the part, exuding fresh mandarin juice from what appears to be a glass of orange juice. There's a fun and spicy nutmeg edge to this as well. Though the ABV is minimal for the style, it's densely bodied, and where I was expecting something as easy-drinking as orange juice, it requires a bit of pulling from the glass. Perhaps due to that density, it doesn't taste as bright as it smells. The juice turns to cordial; full of oranges but slightly claggy with it. A sweet stickiness begins proceedings, followed by a more savoury onion and garlic effect, about which there's a slightly dreggy, mucky vibe: not uncommon in beers like this, but most unwelcome. It's not awful: the aroma is great fun, and its happy fruitiness returns as the aftertaste. The middle needs cleaned up, however.

Centennial Millennial West Coast, then. It's clear and amber-coloured, so that's good, though lacking in aroma in general. I guessed this would be the sharper-hopped of the two but it was hard to get any flavour from it at all at first. Given a little time to warm, it becomes a kind of fruity-candy IPA: Skittles and Starburst, not grapefruit and pine. The bitterness level grows too, but never quite reaches what I would consider a proper west-coast grade. On the one hand it's clean and inoffensive; on the other it's a little insipid, and unworthy of being a celebration beer for a brewery milestone. A couple of years ago, any IPA in the west-coast style would have been regarded as a treat. With a steady revival in place, however, the standard is higher than this. Full nerd points for the use of the einstein "hat" tile on the labels of this pair, though.

And to finish, the traditional house beer of the festival: Hopstravaganza. The brewery seems to have invented a new style this time around, "Extra Pale IPA". What does that mean? Not much, I suspect. It's not particularly pale, being medium amber, and just a little bit hazed. 6.5% is a fairly middle-of-the-road ABV. There's a bit of promotional bumf on the can for Crosby Hops's CGX lupulin pellets, the Amarillo and Cashmere versions being used here. I can't say I can smell or taste any major difference they contribute. Still, the beer is very decent for all that, softly textured with a peachy/melony effect that I'm well used to from The White Hag, with a bonus poke of hard pithy bitterness. Not for the first time I'm comparing a new release to a beefed-up or toned-down version of Little Fawn, in this case the former. There's a fair whack of boozy heat lurking in the finish after the fruit, but the festival is for considered sipping of quality beers, so this will fit in perfectly.

Right so. See you in Ballymote. The usual drill.