A Rocky start

My first time drinking beer from the Franco-Coloradan brewery Outer Range, I thought it was something else. It's not my fault, it's what it was sold as: a 5% ABV pale ale from an Irish brewery. That was surprising and noteworthy because it didn't taste or feel like one, and that's because Swells is actually a 10.5% ABV triple IPA. Happily, the parties involved cleared up the confusion within a day.

On pouring (yes that's a dirty great pint), it seemed a bit beige: murky in an unappetising vomit-like way. But I didn't buy it to look at it. The aroma is spectacularly tropical, blazing with concentrated mango, pineapple, passionfruit and all the rest of them. It's thickly textured to the point of feeling like a smoothie shake, as one might expect given the strength. I'd love to say that the fruit sensation transfers seamlessly to the flavour, but it doesn't quite. The sweet tropical thing is still at the centre, accompanied by a slather of even-sweeter vanilla, and then around the edges there's an unfortunate twang of garlic and stale sweat; a dry savoury quality that interrupts the sweetness instead of complementing it. Azacca, Simcoe and Columbus, in case you're wondering. Before, and indeed well into, the haze era, what triple IPAs I met could be depended on to be cleanly hot, and generally not too difficult to drink. I think this one is for those with a higher tolerance for hazy off-flavours than I possess.

Next, we'll start back at basecamp with a standard hazy IPA, a mere 7.1% ABV, and called Rayon de Soleil. It looks pretty similar to the big lad: an opaque yellow. It's nowhere near as thick, of course, and the aroma is spicy and herbal,  suggesting crisp green cabbage and rocket. To taste, it's sweeter: offering typically NEIPA-esque vanilla given a glaze of honey or golden syrup. Overall it's quite unremarkable and I've tasted plenty of beers just like it, from both France and the USA (these, I'm told, were brewed on the French side). It wasn't so extreme as to test my tolerance for garlicky vanilla murk, though the sweet aspect did get a little cloying on the end. I'm glad they didn't serve me a pint of this one.

Predictably, it's the double to finish: Forever Glades, although it's only a tiny step up from the basic at 7.6% ABV. (I blame the BJCP for putting an arbitrary border between the styles at 7.5%. And the brewery for paying attention to the BJCP.) Anyway: is it murky and yellow, you ask? Hell yes. And while it wasn't too overpowering in the previous two, garlic features massively here, in addition to all the bad stuff about this sorely stubborn genre of beer: too much heat, even though it's unashamedly strong. I will grant that there's a pleasant centre, with mandarin and honeydew melon, but the hot gritty muck around it renders it moot. This is very much a nope from me.

There are so many beers like these. Why is anyone importing them? This is why you rarely find foreign murk on this blog: I could fill it with nothing but if I wanted to but I respect you too much to keep posting the same, valid, criticisms about substandard overpriced hazy IPA.

Fruit, real and implied

It all seems business as usual at Whiplash at the moment, all fruited sour beers and hazy pale ales. Let's take a look at the most recent ones to come my way.

Fruit Salad Days are here again, this time with Watermelon added to the Berliner weisse base. I don't know why I was expecting it to be pink, but it isn't. A lesser brewery might have done that. Instead it's a pale cloudy shade of brass, unsurprisingly without a head: few of this style have those. The watermelon manifests in the aroma as a kind of green vegetal note, very real but very much the rind of the fruit, not the flesh. There's even more of that in the flavour, making it taste very much like biting into melon skin. The base beer provides little other than fizz, and there's a disappointing lack of sourness. The hops are El Dorado, but they could be anything. From the idea and the artwork, I see this as a well-intentioned gesture at solidarity with the Palestinian people but I don't think it really works as a beer, being neither one of the silly-but-fun sweet and syrupy efforts, nor a serious mixed fermentation buffet of bug-derived complexity. Be advised.

On to IPA, and Step Steadier, 6.8% ABV and exceptionally murky, making me fear the burn and the grit that so often comes with. Except, in proper Whiplash fashion, there's neither. It's softly textured and effervescent in the well-made New England style. Its flavour is a fruit salad mélange, incorporating pineapple, apple, grape and peach, suspended in syrup; sweetly fresh with no pointy edges. Bitterness doesn't really feature, and I'm sure that's deliberate. There's a tiny hint of garlic on the finish and a slight alcohol burn which are the only elements of the style's typical problems to manifest, and none of it is problematic. Otherwise it's a very decent take: doing the fruit in a way that haze is meant to. This is why we Whiplash.

The big guns today are Big Fluffy Clouds, loudly billed as an all-Nelson double IPA. Bring it, so. It's another opaquely orange job and the aroma doesn't deliver the huge Nelson hit I was hoping for. It's subtle, with only a mild spicy fruit effect, like clove-studded satsuma, but nothing fancier. Maybe because it was served very cold it didn't taste strong and I had to hold back on drinking it too quickly. Nelson is in its tropical era, bringing lychee, apricot, white plum and ripe pear. The harder mineral side is smoothed out into a mild fresh-milled pink peppercorn sensation. It is well named, being cloudy, fluffy and yet big also. Half way through I could start to feel the 8.2% ABV begin to warm my belly parts; it was understated before that. Overall, it's a beaut. I didn't get the hairdryer effect of full Nelson in the face, which I always enjoy, but complex and nuanced single-hoppers are rare, and this is one of them. Your mileage in can may vary, but the draught version absolutely sings.

Another reminder here from Whiplash that hazy IPA can be wonderful when all the regular pitfalls are avoided. I don't know a brewery that does them better.

Pooch hooch

I don't know why Hopfully elected to make these two beers a matching set. The recipes don't seem related to each other. Was it just to save money on the artwork?

The first is called Hair of the Dog Day-Time Ale and it's 4% ABV and hopped with Strata, Citra and Ella. In the glass it's a very pale murky yellow, looking sickly, almost greenish. The aroma is more cheerful, suggesting lemon icepops and good vanilla ice cream, though with a slightly pithier edge too. There's a pleasant smoothness to the mouthfeel, which is especially impressive given the modest strength. Best of all, it's clean, absent of all grittiness, heat or inappropriate allium. Instead you get the same simple citric sweetness as was demonstrated in the aroma: nothing fancy, but very tasty. It's nicely refreshing too, that smoothness making for very easy drinking, and it has enough fizz to clean the palate. The bitterness does grow a little as it goes along, but not to any serious degree, and certainly not problematic. It meets the spec of a day-drinking beer nicely.

Citra reappears in Hair of the Dog Night-Time Ale where it's joined by Simcoe and Chinook. That's a very west-coast hop combination, and that is indeed the style the brewery claims for it. It's 7% ABV and almost totally clear and a brilliant golden colour, so full marks for the visuals. Grapefruit and lime goes the aroma, as you might expect, and it's not shy about it. That doesn't quite come through to the flavour, unfortunately, where there's a surprise savoury quality, dry and crunchy, with notes of caraway and sesame seed. I searched in vain for any citrus taste at all. The strength gives it a significant density, although it doesn't get hot or difficult. Instead, it's a rather plain affair, the aroma making a promise that the flavour, for whatever reason, fails to deliver on. Shame.

It would be odd not to buy them as a pair, but if only picking one, I would go for the Day-Time. East coast wins, for a change.

Hungary four more

Picking a random country for beers of international interest, I ended up with Hungary, and four from the Horizont brewery. I was a bit more deliberate in selecting the styles, interested in what the brewey does with sour beer and lager.

While it was warm and sunny, I got stuck in to the fruity sour ones, beginning on Tropic Inferno. It looks like the sort of fruit "juice" that's really just minced fruit, and I was half expecting some chunks to block the can mouth. Settled in the glass, it's a luminous carrot-orange, and although there was fizz as it poured, there's no head. It smells like it looks: a mélange of tropical fruit, though there's a bit of sleight of hand there as only mango was used; the extra sweet complexity is via vanilla. A cheeky twist, hinted at in the name, is the use of chilli as well. How daring! I thought it was a busted flush at first, manifesting only as a vague pepperiness in the finish, but it builds nicely, becoming quite an assertive burn on the tongue and stomach by the final third of the small can. In front of that, it's just mango and more mango, thick and sweet and milkshake-like, not in the least bit sour. I think this may be a divisive beer and I'm not sure I liked it myself. The idea and execution are fun -- and innocent fun at only 4.5% ABV -- but at heart it's another fruit concoction that doesn't feel like actually drinking a beer. There are occasions for that, I guess. If you come to this for the fruit, beware of that chilli.

The next one is Currant Interest, which involves blackcurrant, redcurrant, and rye, for some reason. There are oats too, which is presumably why there's a some-way decent head over the purpley-pink opaque body. The blackcurrant in the aroma is extreme, bringing me directly back to undilute Ribena, something I haven't smelled in several decades. The flavour is very tart, which I reckon is the redcurrant more than the souring culture, assuming they've used one in this "Sour Series" beer. A hard vinegar tang is incongruously followed by a sort of soft milk chocolate sweetness, which doesn't complement it at all. And for all that weirdness, it tails off quickly, with nothing different or interesting happening in the middle or tail. This should have more going on, even if it's not much stronger than the previous one at 4.8% ABV. The only after-effect is a curdling in the stomach from all that intense acidity. 

OK, let's draw a line under the Sour Series and see if the normal beers I picked are any better. They should be: they're both pilsners.

CzechMate is a collaboration with Moravian brewery Mazák. I'm hoping from the name that some Saaz hops might have been involved too but the can doesn't say. It's slightly hazy, in that way that says unfiltered but not deliberately murked. There's a solid backbone of Saaz-y grass in the aroma, but quite a lot of fruit too: soft and fleshy, like melon and kiwi. There are elements of both aspects in the flavour, though neither is especially assertive. Ahead of the hopping, I noticed the lovely soft and smooth texture, something you rarely get when a non-Czech brewery takes on the style, nor in any lager at only 4% ABV. Perhaps the collaborators insisted on it, in which case I thank them. Back to the hops, and what was grass in the aroma turns a little more severe in the flavour, bringing a dry rasp that lasts to the finish. What malt-derived sweetness there may have been is thoroughly covered by that. The fruit side ramps up too, turning full-on citric, with quite an American lemon and grapefruit vibe, all fresh and zesty. Put together it works beautifully. It doesn't quite have the understated elegance of the best Czech and Czech-style pilsner but it's a highly enjoyable modernised take. A round of applause and on to the next one.

It's an interesting side-by-side, because Twisted Fantasy is a New Zealand (hopped) pilsner. Let's see if the actual New World can out new-world the last one. It looks identical, though is a measure stronger at 4.8% ABV. The aroma is nowhere near as assertive, but is pleasantly pear- and peach-like: fruit esters, but clean and subtle ones. That's pretty much how it continues in the flavour. The pear element gives it a modicum of crispness, though the bitterness is dialled back. This is New Zealand hopping in its cool tropical mode, and I get hints of pineapple and cantaloupe in the background. There's a little of the soft textural quality I got from the last one, though not as noticeable. I almost had to ask out loud "what about the bitterness?" There is bitterness, just about pinching the sides of the tongue, late in the finish. It's not disappointing though; it's just the design of the beer, putting all the fruit up front and leaving you to enjoy that. It's plenty. This is a lovely beer, though doesn't impress me quite as much as the previous one did. That was a slight craft twist on a classic design; this is modern craft all the way through, and that's OK: it's very well done.

I don't know if I have any conclusions to draw, other than any well-made pilsner has the easy beatings of most any fruit kettle-soured beer you care to name. But I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that. More Horizont anon, I'm sure.

Slow out of the Gate

Following the grand re-opening of the Guinness Open Gate taproom back in May, they've been a little slow to turn over new beers. That may just mean that they throw less out, which is probably for the good. By mid-August it looked like there was enough on the menu to justify a return visit and so I swung by.

It turned out there were only two I hadn't had. Liberties Lager continues the recent theme of using local placenames. This is 5% ABV and a clear sunny golden colour. It's hard to judge the head in a glass that's been heavily engineered to generate bubbles but I'm sure it's fine. It's quite a dry affair, big bodied as befits the strength but not rounded or malt-driven. Instead, the hopping is dominant: sharp and flinty, with notes of zinc, crunchy green veg and hard candle wax. Only a faint hint of apricot in the finish represents hops' softer side. This is lager for grown-ups, tasting to me like a pilsner in the north-German style, though the brewery has opted not to designate a genre for it, as is their right, of course. I appreciated that it's very well made but found it a little on the severe side for my tastes. A half was plenty; perhaps I would have acclimatised better to the bitterness if I'd had a pint.

The newest IPA is Galaxy 438. It looks quite similar to the lager, although it's slightly hazy. I assume the hop is Galaxy but have no idea what "438" signifies. For all that this place is supposed to cater for people actually interested in beer, the point-of-sale information is abysmal these days. Unsurprisingly, it has the flabby flatness of flavour that's standard on Open Gate IPAs, presumably using the inappropriate Guinness yeast. I could tell there's a bright fruit character from the hops trying to get out, but expressed only as a sort of processed jam or marmalade citrus. It's all a bit sickly and gloopy, perhaps a result of the esters produced by the yeast: there's no edge and no zing. I will grant it a certain amount of brio in the aroma, which suggests sherbet or candied lemon peel. It's a shame the flavour doesn't, can't, follow through on that promise. 

Sadly, I had just missed the brown ale that came and went remarkably quickly, so I've no dark beer for balance. Oh well, next time, maybe.

Twos and trees

Brehon Brewhouse and Two Stacks whiskey have teamed up for a second time to give us a barrel-aged imperial porter, this time with an extra woody twist. I really enjoyed Oak & Mirrors first time round so grabbed the new one within seconds of seeing it in Molloy's.

This is Oak & Mirrors Maple Edition and I had to research the Two Stacks product range to find out exactly what's going on. As far as I can make out, the barrels were originally used for bourbon and cognac, then for maple syrup, and then for Irish whiskey. Two Stacks definitely has maple syrup aged whiskey, both before and after those barrels were used for stout, though I don't see anything involving cognac on their listings. Exactly which liquids went where and in which order isn't entirely clear. Maybe it doesn't matter.

What you get, in typical Brehon fashion, is a classic-looking porter: jet black with a nicotine-stained pub ceiling of a head, one which lasts all the way down the glassful. I was a little surprised to find it's the cognac which dominates the aroma: boozy raisin and plum notes with some fruitcake breadiness and a dusting of cocoa powder. Subtle it is not. The flavour is rather more balanced, and I couldn't detect the brandy in that at all. The whiskey, on the other hand, is there in spades, heating everything up from the outset, in a way that makes me slightly distrust the declared 7.5% ABV. It could pass for 10-12%. There's honey, there's chocolate, there's bourbon biscuits and there's coffee. What's missing from all of this is the maple. That could be for the best as it's not a very complementary flavour, even in a strong dark beer. I don't mind.

In short, this is another magnificent dark beer by Brehon. The novelty factor is perhaps overstated, but it's the good kind of bait-and-switch: what you get on pouring is a beautifully-constructed and very delicious barrel aged porter.

Styling it out

For no good reason I hadn't been to Urban Brewing in an age, so nipped in during a quiet August afternoon to see what was on offer.

First there was a Mandarin Lager, a style that had a bit of a moment a few years back but has been rarely seen in these parts since. This is a good example of it, benefitting from no actual added fruit. There's nothing strange or daring, just a pure and clean basic lager base -- clear gold and with enough crisp hop bite to call itself a pilsner. And then a subtle quantity of orangey flavour has been added in via Mandarina Bavaria hops, giving it a happy summer cocktail vibe à la Aperol Spritz, yet without covering the beery aspect. The noble hops stay with you after the orange has faded, a leafy salad after your aperitif. This is a nice piece of unfussy, zesty fun.

I decided to stay on the lager kick with a Rye Lager next. The brewery says it's "Keller-style" and I was expecting murky from that but it's actually just dark amber and perfectly clear. There's a weight to it that suggests warm fermentation to me, even though I'm sure it's not. 5% ABV gives it a chewy body, in which the carbonation is light and effervescent. How I know it's definitely a lager is that the flavour is clean to the point of barely existing. There's a little caramel, some roasty grain crunch, and then a faint hint of rye's white pepper spice. The aroma gives pepper of a different kind: bell, green, and nicely fresh. Rye can be a pain to brew with but this justifies any hassle it put the brewers to. Like the above, it's a basic and accessible lager at heart, but given the sort of non-mainstream twist one should expect from a high-turnover brewpub.

Likewise Irish Honey Grisette, though I  was sceptical as to whether the honey would be tasteable: it usually isn't. A flavour descriptor of "wet earth" is how you know it was written by a brewer, not the marketing folk. I approve. It's pale and hazy, and it does smell earthy, though no more than saison-type beers usually do. From the taste I wouldn't have got honey but there's definitely an unexpected sweetness where I thought it would be farmhouse-dry. That softens it, knocking off the edges. It possibly removes some of the fun too. As well as wet earth, the blurb promises spices, nuts and flowers and I don't get much of that. As it warms, the honey side does become more pronounced, though it's an unsubtle candy thing -- Crunchie honeycomb, not actual honey. This is an OK beer, and an interesting experiment, but I think I prefer grisette in its basic form. And isn't 4.6% ABV a bit too strong for the style? That's just a saison with notions, I reckon.

The Crystal Weiss had me wondering what the threshold for crystal-ness is. This guy is bright but has a clarity level which I would not describe as "crystal". The aroma is crisp, with only a faint trace of weissbier fruitiness. It's only 4.6% ABV and that equates to a lack of substance, or possibly a light summer drinkability, depending on your viewpoint. Four beers in, I was ready for more oomph than this provided. It's fine though. Once again it's a beer in need of warming up to develop character, but when it does there's marzipan, apricot jam, grain husk and a very gentle, barely-yellow banana quality, far more subtle than your typical weissbier banana honk. Clove doesn't feature, so I think weissbier purists may be disappointed that it's not miles different from a lager, but I liked the bonus cleanness.

To finish: Earl Grey IPA. Not my first one of these, and not even my first from Urban. It's 5% ABV and copper coloured, smelling resinous in a west coast way, where there may indeed be added citrus, but what citrus I could smell was very much of the hop surrogate sort. In fact, the tea seems to have been thoroughly buried by the beer, so while there's tannin it's again not different from what you get in, say, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Like that classic, this deftly walks the line between easy-going drinkability and bold fresh hop flavour. The brewed-on-site effect is played to considerable advantage, making me wonder if this is what it's like drinking SNPA at source. It's banging fresh, a little dank and funky and classic west coast all the way through with no hint of novelty. Or Earl Grey tea. Does that make it a failure? Not to me. This was the winner of the evening for me, expressing American hop character in a magnificent way and I don't even mind that they had to add actual bergamot oil to do it.

Not a bad set, all told. Urban Brewing has its good batches and not-so-good batches, but appears very much on the upswing at the moment. If you haven't been lately, it's worth dropping in for a taster or two.