In for a Penny

It's funny how branches of pub chain JD Wetherspoon develop personalities for themselves. Of the three in central Dublin, The Silver Penny, in the north inner city, isn't the biggest, but it always feels like the busiest, the loudest, the endless party on the verge of kicking off. None of that has anything to do with cask beer, and yet it's the one that does the most to put cask beers on. At festival time, it seems to give everything its turn, where the other two branches don't seem so committed. That's a long introduction to say that virtually everything I drank at the Spring 2024 JD Wetherspoon Beer Festival, I drank at the 'Penny.

First out of the box is Atlantic Red, from Theakston. I've always liked the dryness of this Yorkshire brewery's beers, especially tbe flagship bitter. This doesn't have that. It's a textbook example of the home-brewers' style guide observation that dark English ales may acceptably feature diacetyl. This deep mahogany one has loads, but it doesn't present as slick and sickly butter but warm and wholesome tartan-tin shortbread, with some Highland toffee and fudge to enhance the Scottish giftshop picture. A tiny spark of peppery spice hides in the background, suggesting the activity of one of those complex house yeasts that veteran brewers like this tend to use. Though only 4.3% ABV, it's nicely full-bodied and really took the chill off on a crisply cold early Spring day. There's no massive complexity on display, but it's good solid workmanlike drinking, about as good as red ale can get without drawing on the attributes of other styles.

Arriving simultaneously at The Silver Penny, Roasted Nuts from Rebellion in Buckinghamshire: one of their regulars but new to me. It's a pale brown, though badged as a bitter rather than a brown ale, despite the name. It's definitely a bitter. The texture is very thin for 4.6% ABV and the aroma sharp: a blackberry and damson twang. This intensifies on tasting, giving me a worrying vinegar note at first, but that settles. The tannins of very black tea form the base, and then the forest fruit arrives, tart and mouthwatering. Because of the texture the finish is quick, which makes it a bit of a damp squib. Worst of all, there's neither roastiness nor nuttiness, so the name is completely inappropriate. It's okay-ish, but if it's this thin and sharp when fresh, I don't want to think what it would be like with even a little age on it.

Round two brought Jersey's Liberation Brewing back to the pumps for the first time in a few years. The beer is Guernsey Street NYC, a pale ale with notions of Americana, though only 4.6% ABV. It's a dark-ish amber colour, looking convincingly like Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and there's lemon in the aroma from the get-go, mixed in with sweeter cookie. No surprises that the flavour goes the same way. It's too malt-forward to be described as zingy, though there's a definite citrus quality: drizzle cake on a good day; household detergent on a bad one. The body is full, the texture smooth, and there's a very mild toffee chewiness. It's nicely balanced and very satisfying to drink: one of those beers where I struggle to get the words down before the glass empties, which is always a good sign.

The only one of this festival's international collaborations I found is Disco Macaw, another American-style pale ale. Repoint of Taiwan is the originating brewery, guesting at Shepherd Neame. At 4.5% ABV it's a similar strength to the above, though paler in colour: at the golden edge of amber. In keeping with my prejudices about the host brewery, there's very little American-tasting about it. I get a broad and rather dull jaffa orange flavour, while the aroma has a dusty staleness which I think has nothing to do with the beer's freshness but everything to do with the Shepherd Neame house yeast. There's nothing offensive about it; it's just a very average English bitter, not the exotic Taiwanese take on American pale ale being presented. It's easy-drinking and fully forgettable, and honestly I count that as a win where Shepherd Neame is concerned.

Onwards. Cairngorm is next, and Lairig Brew, a 4% ABV dark amber job which the brewery describes as a "classic Scottish bitter". I don't know how they expect this foreigner to understand what that means without a shilling value on it. It smells darkly maltish; the strawberry and plum you get from the better sort of Irish red. Not a coincidence. After two American-hopped beers, the foretaste was a bit of a shock. It seemed harshly bitter at first, a hard tang of zinc and bitumen. It doesn't fade, exactly, but you get used to it, and there's a softer caramel behind. No sign of that summer fruit, mind. I wanted to like it for the assertiveness but it doesn't have enough else going on, and tastes unbalanced and difficult as a result. Respect for giving the lie to traditional-style Scottish ale being all soft and sweet, but that doesn't make this a good example.

There was a non-festival interloper next to it, a JD Wetherspoon regular, Burton Bridge Stairway to Heaven. I'd never had it before, so fill me a half, barkeep. It's pale, moreso than I would have thought typical for a 5% ABV English bitter. I got a weird and unexpected rubbery note from the aroma, which turned into quite a nasty tennisball twang on tasting. I have no idea if this is deliberate or infected, but the lack of any redeeming features in the background suggests that it's how the beer is supposed to taste. Either way, I have little else to tell you: Maybe the rubber is the famed Burton snatch, sulphur presenting here, to me, as vulcanisation. Regardless, it's a big nope.

England's turn to provide a brown bitter gave me Ask Twice, from Moorhouse's. The name comes from a tie-in with a Yorkshire mental health charity, and it's that increasingly rare beast: a sub-4% cask ale, being 3.8% ABV. The aroma is simply and pleasantly plummy, and the texture very light. One could accuse it of being watery, but that wasn't a problem for me. I prefer to see it as thirst-quenching and sinkable, refreshing like a good cup of tea. The dark fruit -- raisin rather than plum -- hovers in the background, alongside an equally subdued milk chocolate element. I think this is one of those beers where you need to appreciate, and enjoy, just how subtle the genre can be. For me it was a classically good example of brown bitter, and perfectly pitched if its aim is to encourage conversation and social interaction.

 Next to it is 5G, celebrating five generations of family ownership at Bateman's of Lincolnshire. I'm a longtime fan of the brewery's work, though this is the first of theirs I've tried in the modern style of session IPA. Fuggles, Harlequin and Olicana are the hops and it's a pale amber colour. Unlike the last one, it is not subtle. The flavour gives the palate a sharp kick of lime flesh, backed by a softer concentrated white grape effect. The grape is even louder in the enticing aroma. It's an impressive result from all-English hops, and I would be guessing that one of the modern continentals like Hallertau Blanc was involved. The bitterness builds as it goes, turning a little harsh by the finish. It's only 4.2% ABV but I'm glad I had no more than a half pint to get through. Still, Bateman's reputation for making tasty and characterful beers remains intact.

London's Redemption brings a strong ale to the party: Magnus. It's a whopper at [checks notes] 5% ABV. Insert biannual grumble about these festivals not having any properly strong beer any more. The extra alcohol doesn't bring extra flavour, and it's quite plain. It's very English too, with tin and marmalade deriving from the Bramling Cross and First Gold hops. I expected more malt weight, maybe even some warmth, but it does not extend such courtesies to the drinker. As such it falls between the categories: too light to be a good strong ale, while lacking the subtle complexity of a bitter. If ever there was a case for boosting the gravity of a beer just for the sake of making it interesting, this featherweight is it.

Otter Dark went on shortly afterwards, a mild. This is 3.8% ABV and a dark brown colour, looking almost black but with telltale cola-coloured edges. It doesn't taste of a whole lot, which is not something I feel I can criticise a mild for. Delving deep into the flavour, there's a tangy damson tartness backed by a very light toasty roast. Everything around this is clean and simple, demanding nothing of the drinker's attention. I prefer mild to have a bit more character, but didn't mind how understated this one was. The style is meant for session sinking, and that's very much an option with this example. I would be very happy to find it as a regular in my local pubs.

A black IPA from Hook Norton? Seems unlikely, but I'll give it a go. Crafty Fox is the most terribly generic name for a beer from a Victorian English brewery that's trying to get down with the Gen X kids. The beer is a mere 4.4% ABV but is properly black. The aroma tells us from the off that they've got this right: a lovely waft of spiced red cabbage and freshly poured tar. Yum yum. That acidic hop punch is where the flavour starts, though it's a little softer than the aroma, suggesting a squeeze of lemon juice and a twist of grapefruit peel. A hint of coffee sits behind this, but that's a token complexity. Citrus rules here, and it fits the older spec for black IPA, where you wouldn't know it's a dark beer if you couldn't see it. That makes it slightly lacking in complexity, but I don't mind. The New World hop punch is great fun, and the beer's existence is justified on that alone. 

Oakham, a brewery much better known for its hop forward pale ales, had a stout on the roster, called Bite the Bullet. At 5% ABV, it's one of the stronger ones, and the texture certainly reflects that, being smooth and creamy, almost to the point of chewy. There's decent quantity of tarry roast at the centre of the flavour here, but they've also decided to accentuate the hops. That gives it a surprise bucolic character, all meadowy bowers of rosewater and lavender. Dare I opine that this is closer in character to black IPA than stout? It doesn't have the hop wallop of the Crafty Fox, but it expresses its freshly hopped nature nonetheless. Regardless, it's very tasty, and pretty much exactly how I would expect a stout from Oakham to taste.

The day after the festival ended I paid a quick visit to Keavan's Port where I caught the Titanic Chocolate & Vanilla Stout before it went. Its Plum Porter gives the brewery a good reputation for this sort of thing, and this one is rather good too. It's light at only 4.5% ABV and the sweet adjuncts have been added with some discretion. The aroma is pure milk chocolate, but there's more from the vanilla than the chocolate in its flavour, adding a dessertish note of blancmange or bread-and-butter pudding. A salt tang from the chocolate appears late, and the base stout is still present here too, low on roast but with a contrasting hop tang. It works rather well. I was expecting a full pint to be hard work, but they've kept drinkability in mind when designing it, and while I wouldn't exactly be rushing for another, it wouldn't be any sort of hardship.

Not a bad set, all told, particularly that late run of black ones. I liked the look of several on the menu I wasn't able to try, but them's the breaks. Until Autumn, then.