15 April 2024

For the sake of weird

Outlandish concoctions, and specifically a lime and elderflower flavoured Berliner weisse, are what first brought Swedish brewer Brewski to my attention, in 2015. When a bunch of their arty cans containing strange beers arrived into Dublin recently, I picked up a set.

It was hard to decide a drinking order for the first three. They're all 4.7% ABV and are those contemporary interpretations of old sour German styles which bear little resemblance to the originals. Salty Lemon seemed like an innocent enough proposition, so that's where I started. I thought it would be a gose but the label says it's a Berliner weisse, and there's more than just lemon in here: also vanilla and liquorice. How does that work? Poorly, you may be surprised to learn. It's a crazy mish-mash of contrasting flavours, beginning with the intense white-chocolate sweetness from the vanilla. That's in the aroma and foretaste, and lingers stickily for ages afterwards. In the middle, when you're actually drinking it, it's all about the sharply zesty lemon, a palate-pinching sourness which I'm guessing is nothing to do with the fermentation and all about the added citrus. Liquorice? Salt? There isn't really room for them under the other two foghorns. I mean, it's interesting, for a sip or two, but gets boring and cloying very quickly.

Matador is another Berliner weisse, and features seemingly saner additions, pineapple and lime. It's certainly a gentler experience without the vanilla, and the fruit here is nicely real-tasting. The pineapple in particular is identical to pineapple juice from a carton and is the centre of the taste. Lime is a mild tang in the finish, with a decent amount of flavour but no sourness or bitterness. The overall effect is a kind of piƱa colada, minus the coconut flavour, but including the creamy texture. It doesn't taste anything like Berliner weisse and definitely isn't sour, but as a silly novelty fruit beer it's enjoyable and well made.

Last of these hazy pale amber beers is badged as a gose, Grandmother Gose, but you know by now not to expect any coriander, though there is salt, along with mango, lime and two types of chilli pepper. Although I'm sure the fruit was added as a concentrated syrup, it's not sweet, and the chilli's first contribution is to make it dry. There isn't much of a flavour from them, but they do deliver that initial rasp and then a peppery bite on the end. Without the sweetness, the fruit side is quite understated. As with the above, the lime is gentle and unobtrusive, but mango is no pineapple, and contributes nothing but a broad, mixed-tropical squash, and heavily diluted. The ingredients don't gel together as well here as they do in the Matador, but it's still easier going than Salty Lemon despite the chillis. Phew. This is all getting very complicated. Time for a change of scene.

Liquorice is back for Blacpac, an imperial stout of 10.5% ABV which also contains our old friend vanilla. It pours very dense and tarry and has a strongly sweet aroma, the vanilla getting straight to work making it smell like a dessert, specifically a cheesecake. To taste, there's nothing unorthodox at first: it's a big imperial stout, providing a solid amount of creamy coffee and dark chocolate. It turns strange after a second or two as the sweetness builds. Banana milkshake and toffee sauce sneak past the sober roast and hang around as a long sticky finish. I thought the liquorice would have brought some bitterness but I couldn't taste it at all. Is there maybe a lightly metallic tang on the end? I'm not sure. There's not much if there is. This retains just enough bitter coffee roast to avoid descending into cloying nonsense, and is still a proper imperial stout, albeit a very very sweet one. I caution anyone approaching it to be prepared for full-blast banoffee pie over herbal aniseed.

Maybe I'm getting old and boring, but this lot didn't really do it for me. I have a full tolerance for odd ingredients, but the sweetness I find difficult to deal with. Beer doesn't have to taste of beer, but bitter ones should be bitter and sour ones should be sour.

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