When in Plovdiv

I loved Plovdiv, the little city with a big history, right in the middle of Bulgaria. I wouldn't class it as an A-1 beer destination, however, although it has definitely made an effort.

The Kapana district has recently been developed as the cultural quarter, and they've done a better job of that than some other European cities I could name. In amongst the artisan shops, cocktail bars and restaurants are two specialty beer bars, back-to-back on parallel streets.

Hopium, much like the bars I visited in Sofia, is a tiny one-room, high-stooled establishment. It has connections, though, seemingly sharing an owner with the Sudden Death brewery in Germany and Plovdiv's own Pelta Brewing. I began with a beer from the former, a West Coast IPA named Grindhouse. At 7% ABV and a pure, clear amber colour, it meets the basic specs. The question of freshness raised its head again, as it had in Sofia: although this has been given a substantial dose of hops, it didn't have any zing or spark. Instead, there's a weighty funkiness, starting on an aroma of rotting fruit and proceeding to a resinous, leafy flavour. As the colour implied, it has been given a substantial malt base, but that doesn't offset the hop funk and only increases the difficulty level of drinking it. To top it off, a very slightly warm serving temperature on a very warm evening made it even more of a plod. I remember when the only American IPAs you could buy in Ireland were elderly imported bottles. This reminded me of those.

On a return visit, we went for something lighter. The clear golden beer on the right is Session India Pale Ale 1 from a Sofia-based contractor called Megamosh. Presumably all the good beer and brewery names were already taken. Anyway, it's pretty good: a lovely tropical aroma and a flavour with light and refreshing notes of melon and peach. That's it. There's a quick finish and it's maybe a little watery of body for 4.4% ABV, but it does what's needed for a session IPA on a warm afternoon.

The slightly hazy fellow next to it is a pale ale called Bar On, and is by Cometa. See the previous post for other beers by them. This is 5.1% ABV and has a little more complexity than its tablemate, but still shows the same level of basic decency. Here there's a base of tropical fruit, pineapple in particular, and then a light dusting of cinnamon spice. Those two elements work very nicely together. Exploring further, there's a harder mineral edge and a wisp of pear ester. Still, it tasted fresh and was very drinkable and refreshing. Job done again.

Around the corner is a slightly larger café bar arrangement with a bohemian beads-and-cushions vibe, called Kotka i Mishka ("Cat & Mouse"). They have their own range of beers, both bottled and draught. I went with the one named simply as Pale Ale on the hand-drawn tap badge, but which I think is bottled as (oddly) Ale Tap II. It's 4.5% ABV and mostly clear; a dark gold shade with a fine and lasting head. No quibble about serving temperature here: it arrived ice cold, which was appreciated. And that probably helped the flavour for a change, for while the aroma was a light and breezy melon effect, the flavour is seriously dank. It's that hard hop funk which begins as lime rind and proceeds into fried onion before building to old cheese. That took some adjusting to, and I give it a pass, but it's a bit extreme for a low-strength house beer.

Herself went for a Pelta beer which the artist-in-residence named as "Red Lager" on the badge but which does have a name: Zhega Li E? ("Is It Hot?" Huh?) And it's not red at all, but a muddy orange. The lack of redness also means there's not much malt character, only the grain and golden syrup of a decent pilsner, but without the hops, just a mild zinc-like mineral bitterness in the finish. It's very plain, in a way that something advertising itself as a twist on basic lager should not be.

As in Sofia, we finish drinking out with a beer in an excellent restaurant: Chisto i Prosto ("Clean and Simple") by the Trima i Dvama ("Three and Two") brewery, found on the menu at the Aylyakria restaurant, which is my top food recommendation for Plovdiv, in the unlikely event that you trust me on such things. But again like in Sofia, the beer quality wasn't up to the grub, and this is quite a plain blonde ale of 5% ABV, which I guess they're trying to make clear in the name. It's a hazy shade of yellow and quite dry, with a touch of pils-like grass in the aroma. That turns rough and earthy in the taste, finishing on a green spike of asparagus bitterness. There aren't any actual faults, but it still tastes like an unpolished home-brewed lager. 5/10, must try harder.

Elsewhere, on the edge of the city centre, is the Beertherapy beer shop, one which also stocks small-batch spirits, natural wines and meads. I picked up a handful of cans from the local and international selection.

It's tragically fussy of me to have been disappointed that I couldn't find any black IPA from Bulgarian breweries, and also that Tetrapod's Black Sea Tsunami conjured the concept sufficiently in its name for me to buy it. In keeping with the vast majority of the Bulgarian craft beers I found, it's a New England-style IPA: 6.5% ABV and one of the darker orange of examples that aren't quite made in accordance with high haze fashion. It's one of the better ones, though, mixing mandarin with vanilla and set on a softly pillowy texture to create a sweetly citric ice cream effect that's all dessert without any problematic vegetable or booze sideshows. This fine piece of work was contract brewed by the Burgas-based brewery Metalhead, and I discovered a couple more cans from them under their own brand.

Metalhead Metalworks Barleywine is a 13% ABV fellow, claiming figs, dates and spices. It's a pleasant amber colour once poured from the tiny tin. The aroma doesn't say much, just a broadly tannic dryness, and equally the mouthfeel is not that of a powerhouse strong beer, being light and surprisingly drinkable. The flavour is something else, however. They've combined the ingredients beautifully to create a rich and complex Christmas-cake effect, including the booze-infused sponge, the dark fruit pieces, and even the marzipan on top. The spicing -- unspecified but tasting like nutmeg and cinnamon to me -- are perfectly integrated into this, adding to the character but not feeling any way tacked-on. And while it doesn't taste hot, it does leave a lovely comforting warmth in the belly after swallowing. The teeny 25cl can is a shame, but maybe that means there's more of it to go around.

In the same format is Mind of God, which the lovely people of Metalhead have badged as a crème brûlée imperial stout. I didn't check the ingredients. I didn't have to. They have successfully managed to make this taste exactly like a crème brûlée. I deconstructed it as best I could, but it's that all the way down: vanilla as the centre, but real and creamy, not just a pail of essence; then a sweeter caramel smoothness that lingers on the palate, before a proper burnt brown sugar bite at the end. All that left me wondering if it counts as an imperial stout, and I get precious little of the things that make stout worthwhile, except where they're creamy and dessertish. Regardless, this is another piece of strong beer perfection from the Metalheads.

Both cans were in the €3-€4 range in Plovdiv's super-fancy beer nerd trap. I dreaded to think what they'd come out at back home. While I appreciated that it's mad money for small measures, the quality to justify it is present and correct. There were several more in the range and I deeply regret not buying them.

But we go onwards, pushing further east, to the edge of the Black Sea, to find out what sort of beer they have there.