Ott or not

Yesterday we were looking at some of Vienna's many breweries and that's where we pick up today. I don't know if Ottakringer is the largest of them, but it certainly seems to be the most prolific of the large ones, with a sizeable range of beers. A visit was supposed to be on the cards for this trip but the scheduling didn't work out. I still got to drink quite a bit of their beer.

Ottakringer Helles and Wiener Lager are ubiquitous around the city, but are far from their only pale lager offerings. I was intrigued by Sechzehn, also known as XVI when not in the yoof-coded, graffiti-clad, 33cl bottle. The brewery says "this is the urban beer, perfect for after work parties, nights at the club or bar hopping... the unique spirit of city life... suitable for any outfit". From that, I can't tell if it's pitched at children or ladies, but either way, it's not me, and I'm certain it's not meant to be poured into a glass and sipped. Tiresome branding aside, it's a Helles of 4.9% ABV, and a very well made one. There are no distinguishing features -- neither hops nor malt are particularly loud. And yet it's not dull. The pristine cleanness and silky smooth texture are reward enough, and the quick dry finish makes it quite moreish. I wish something of this quality had been around back when I was swigging from longnecks with twist-off caps.

Clearly, identifying a market niche then formulating a lager to fit it is the Ottakringer strategy. We had a short talk from a brewery representative who introduced us to a brand new beer, one which won't be on general release until next month. It seems the flagship Helles, at 5.2% ABV, is too strong for many a drinker today, and they need something lighter in the portfolio. So they've created this one at the radically different ABV of 4.7% and given it the stirring name Ottakringer Lager. Wow-wee! It is very basic, though does taste of more than the above, piling in the spinach-like noble hops. While the flavour profile matches that of a decent pilsner, the texture is definitely thin. I'm sure they're aiming for it to be sessionable; to me it was just too watery. If Viennese drinkers prefer this to simply drinking 10% less of the Helles then they're being silly.

And for the hippies there's Pur Bio, the organic lager. For what are I'm sure good reasons, this looked much paler than the norm, and a beautifully limpid yellow colour. There's a pleasant grassiness in the aroma but otherwise it has little to say. Blandness is its personality, tasting of cream crackers and white bread. As is often the case with beers which wear their organic credentials up front, you have to enjoy it on that worthy level rather than for any sensory characteristics.

That muddy red job beside it is from Ottakringer's BrauWerk range. I'm told that this is a whole separate microbrewing kit situated within the main brewery, as every brewing giant seems to have these days, as if the size and inefficiency of small-batch brewing is an important thing for consumers. The beer is a session IPA named Big Easy. While it looks absolutely awful, the aroma brought a happy surprise of fresh and zesty citrus. A soft texture suggests that we're in the New England style zone, though the flavour has at least a modicum of bitterness: sherbet lemons and an orangeade tang. Only as it warms does the murk get shirty, imparting an unwelcome meaty savouriness. Overall, though, this has bags of character for only 4.3% ABV. Maybe there's something to the small-batch inefficiency after all. What else do they have?

High Five is an American-style pale ale of 5% ABV and a hazy golden hue. Again, the bitter side is dialled back allowing fruit and flowers to dominate. The aroma is fabulously colourful, presenting sprays of jasmine and honeysuckle. Its flavour is soft and slightly tropical, where I detected ripe melon and apricot. A twist of lemon rind is all that's needed to balance it at the finish. It's simple, straightforward and very classy. I have a strong appreciation of when big breweries, especially precision-oriented Germanic lager specialists, try their hands at New World ales. The results often show the best of both worlds, and this is definitely one of those. It would suck to be a genuinely small brewery trying to compete with this quality of pale ale.

Of course, any fool can brew a successful hopped-up pale ale; I know this because I've managed it myself. Something more ambitious follows: Red Impact, BrauWerk's take on Flanders red ale. It looks the part, a clear yet rich burgundy red, though the ABV seems a little overclocked at 7.5%. It all goes completely up the left with the flavour. Whoever was in charge of adding the essential bugs and wild yeast must have got cold feet about introducing them to a sterile Austrian brewing facility because there's no sourness here to speak of. Without that, it ends up tasting like old-fashioned hard candy: cola cubes and rhubarb-and-custards. There's a certain amount of summer fruit to it, but not the sharp cherry the style demands. An unpleasant plastic or wax aftertaste derives from who-knows-where, but nowhere nice. I wouldn't deem it nasty as such, overall, and a high proportion of my displeasure comes from the fact that I love Rodenbach and this tastes as far away from it as, well, Vienna is from Roeselare. Still, not a recommendation, unless you like your red ales big and sweet and sweaty, you pervert.

Topping off the BrauWerk selection, Black & Proud, a name I'm not entirely comfortable with for an Austrian beer. It's a porter, and a deep brown colour, rather than pure black. I guess it shoudn't have been surprising to have found common ground here with Baltic porter -- Ottakringer is very much a lager brewery, after all -- though this makes no claims to Balticness and is only 5.6% ABV. The aroma is highly herbal, with aniseed in the ascendant. The flavour goes full liquorice, with added dark rye bread and and darker chocolate. As such it's very serious and grown up, with not a trace of candy or cream. The carbonation is low, though I still wouldn't class it as easy drinking. It's very much a beer to take time over, and doing so was a very satisfying experience, even when the measure was a mere 33cl.

That's all from Ottakringer's take on craft beer and, Flanders red aside, they're a good bunch and a positive addition to the Viennese beer scene. For proper craft, Vienna has Brew Age, and my hosts told me it's one of the longest-established brewers of non-traditional beers in the area, beginning in 2014. I had been impressed by their filthy-looking but clean-tasting Alphatier IPA on my visit to the city last year, and on a late-night visit to the beer café Die Freunderlwirtschaft I got to see how they manage with oh-so-traditional Helles.

Brew Age Helles is pretty much on the money, with nothing either off or spectacular about it. The middle is all fresh and fluffy white bread, turning to drier waterbiscuit at the edges and seasoned with a touch of celery greenness from the hops. That's all fine and palateable, and the ABV is only 4.8%. The product development boffins at Ottakringer could learn a thing or two from it.

Perhaps the best place to sample Brew Age beers is at Actundzwanzig, a small bar which doesn't claim to be formally affiliated to the brewery but seems to serve its beer almost exclusively. My first here was Raging Heisl, a collaboration with the Bavarian brewer Yankee & Kraut, one of a whole series. This one is a double IPA, and with only 7.7% ABV I thought it would be a lightweight, but it's not. It is exceedingly dense, the mouthfeel matching the foggy colour, and decidedly hot as well. It uses this powerful gravity to pump out vanilla custard and lots of sweet fruit salad ingredients like pineapple and and red apple slices. I wasn't sure at first but soon found myself enjoying it, mostly because the usual hazy IPA off flavours are largely absent. I felt like I got away with something. Still, a powerhouse beer like this means careful consideration for what to drink next. Is that an eisbock I see on the menu?

Eisknacker (lol) is essentially a barley wine, distilled to 11.6% ABV. It's a dark mahogany colour, and if there was any hop character in the base beer, that's been evaporated off with the excess water. What's left, to me, tastes a bit like a quadrupel, only without the warming Belgian esters. There's a backbone of bready fruitcake, strong on raisins, with prune and damson elements for good measure. It's not barrel aged but still manages a strong oaky dimension, thick with strong-tea tannins. That makes it oddly dry, rather than hot, something which helps keep it drinkable but I'm not sure a beer like this ought to be. I would have liked more bang for my buck: some of the bold belly-warming, gut-coating complexity that makes very strong beer worthwhile. Eisknacker is undramatic and, franky, a bit boring. Time to move on.

Back at Die Freunderlwirtschaft, they had an intriguing item on the draught menu board, called Honig Lavendez, from the Zaungast brewery in Vienna. It's a wheat beer with, as the name tells us, honey and lavender. It's a clear yellow colour and has a very clean and simple base, very much in the blonde ale style, eschewing any of the yeast-derived complexities of wheat beer as brewed in Bavaria or Belgium. That's to leave room for the titular ingredients, and they're not shy. Combined, they bring a strong floral element which is sweet, though a little artificial. I got a certain note of fabric softener, although more in a washed-laundry sense than the raw liquid. It works surprisingly well: a novelty beer, but one that has been thought out and expertly put together for the drinker's benefit. It was closing on midnight after a very long day but it still gave me sunny al freso drinking vibes. Fair play.

Our group was given a brief introduction to the beers from another small Viennese outfit, the gypsy brewer RODAUNer. That began with Strizzi, local slang for a young gadabout, and it's a Vienna lager. Or claims to be -- who am I to argue? I can say, however, that I didn't really like it. Vienna lager's should be smooth and rich, with at least a little malt sweetness. This was very pale and pointy, with a strong acrid dryness, tasting musty and dusty. My noble-hop aversion usually isn't a problem with the style, but I was getting overboiled cabbage from the hop side here. Drinking a small sample while on a historic tram ride is probably not the ideal circumstance in which to evaluate a beer's merits or otherwise, but I feel I got enough of an impression from this one to justify my disapproval.

Next out of the cooler box from the same brewer was Schani, referencing the outdoor tables of Viennese cafés: the super-local branding of the range is a nice touch. This golden ale was far superior to their lager. Apparently it's all done with Saaz hops but I got a strong new-world character from it, softly sweet, with a gentle mix of mango and apricot. The strength is a most un-local 4.2% ABV and yet the body is beautifully rounded and full. I could drink a lot of it, which might explain why, some hours later, I could be found enjoying another bottle in the park beside the Rathaus, served from a handtruck in the company of the RODAUNer sales guy, a Dane, a Finn and a lad from Carlow. Good beer, good times.

Two final lagers to finish this post, the first in the more civilised surrounds of The Long Hall Irish pub. Saphir Pils is by Zwettler, based in the north, near the Czech border. I was tempted by the promise of exotic, modern German hops, but this didn't really deliver. The bitterness is there, in spades. In fact it was all rather severe, the green acidity meeting a powerfully dry astringency that I could almost feel squeaking on my teeth. Yes, it's a pils, so I wasn't expecting it to be cuddly, but there's a serious lack of charm here, and absolutely none of the mandarin or spice that the Saphir salesmen told me I could expect.

Next we found ourselves in a rather more raucous Irish hostelry, the basement Bogside Inn. I could have had O'Hara's Stout from the repurposed Murphy's tap but stayed Austrian with Schremser Zwickl. I don't have much to say about it, however. Though not fined, it's fine: some breadcrust, a hint of honey, medium body, medium carbonation, medium enjoyment. I'm sure the pub didn't choose to stock it for any weird or way-out attributes, beyond the haze. My palate wasn't in great shape by this point anyway.

It was an international beer meeting, so of course some international beer featured, both formally imported and suitcased over by other delegates. That's for the next post.