Pick and Mikks

It's a source of some bemusement to me how the breweries and beer brands which were bold and exciting, (if never actually revolutionary) a decade and more ago have become part of the mainstream, when they survived. I barely notice the wares from BrewDog, Stone and Mikkeller in the off licence fridges now. I see it as broadly a positive thing that they became so commonplace; that flavour-first beer is now easily available. It's just, as I say, bemusing that any sense of thrill or intrigue is completely gone. In fact, it was not boldness but the charming retro packaging of these two lagers that caught my attention. I have never liked the Keith Shore artwork for Mikkeller and here it's minimised, giving prominence instead to stolid, commonsense, pastiche Victoriana. You know where you are with a roundel.

Ice Cold Pilsner is where we start, the name and 4.5% ABV suggesting something pale, clear and possibly passed through a Clydesdale. In fact it's very hazy, dark yellow under a rocky head resulting from some messily overenthusiastic carbonation. The aroma isn't classic pils either, being lemony in a very New World way. The fizz had settled by the time I took my first sip, so while it does have a busy prickle, it's not at the expense of the flavour. There's a certain amount of the noble-hop grassy bitterness that pilsner is supposed to have, but it's an easily-missed background element, behind a citrus kick that's by turns sweet (Club Orange; Orangina) and sharp (thick-shred marmalade; Angostura Bitters). It's a bright and jolly affair, and has enough of the pilsner character about it that I can forgive its meanderings. It did leave me wanting the crystal-clear pilsner I had been expecting, however.

Ice Cold seems to come twinned with a Vienna lager, 5.6% ABV, which has similar branding. And a similar name too: Iskold. It's a bit muddy looking in the glass: red like Vienna lager should be, but the murk is not a good fit. The crisper and roastier side of the style spectrum is well represented here: lots of wholegrain toast and crisp malt kernels. The high gravity makes its mark with a thick and treacly body, and that's balanced against a very vegetal tang of tender green cabbage and cool celery: noble hops at their subtle best. Like the beer above, it's nice, but doesn't have the style points quite where they should be. The best Vienna lagers have a cleanness and a precision which this, presumably, Belgian-brewed craft take doesn't show. A polite round of applause and, while I wish it success, I hope it doesn't become anyone's idea of what Vienna lager should be.

For dessert, a taster courtesy of Simon, voted Most Likely To Have A Bottle of Imperial Stout To Share by the barflies in UnderDog. It's called Vanilla Shake and is bourbon barrel-aged. Other Mikkeller Vanilla Shakes may exist; I don't keep track. It's a strange mix of sweet and dry: a powerful 13.4% ABV and heavily laden with milk chocolate, the effect doubtless accentuated by whatever vanilla extract they've added. And then the barrel kicks in. If it adds yet more vanilla, that gets lost in the general vanilla-y morass of the foretaste, but there's a sizeable dose of cork, port wine, and then a splintery dry-wood rasp. The two elements aren't complementary and neither is particularly enjoyable by itself. I daren't think what this costs to buy, but whatever they're asking isn't worth it.

Bemusement of a different kind, there. The hits keep coming at Mikkeller.