Elephant -v- Dragon

On Monday, I took you on a free-roaming rumble through a handful of Ghent hostelries. Today we're sticking strictly to the programme: the social events put on for judges at the 2024 Brussels Beer Challenge, of which I was one.

As I mentioned, Brouwerij Huyghe was a major sponsor of the event, and were very generous with their hospitality. In central Ghent they've set up a brewpub in one of the many beautiful historic buildings, and they've named it Artevelde, resurrecting a previously defunct local beer brand, itself named after a 14th century brewer, statesman and city hero who was killed by an angry mob. Ingrates. Questions were raised among some attendees over how much of the beer was actually brewed on site, rather than at the big out-of-town brewery.

The house beer is Artevelde Pintje, a pilsner. Getting into judging mode, I was looking hard for flaws here but couldn't find any beyond a small, and reasonable, hint of butter in the aroma. Otherwise it's very clean and simple fare, with a quaffable smoothness and superb thirst-quenching power. They haven't done anything fancy with the recipe, and while I like my pale lagers with a bit of a honed hop edge, I don't begrudge the roundness of this one. It's 5% ABV and I'm sure it's a coincidence that the main pilsner brewed at Huyghe, Mongozo, is too.

Although it's a completely different kind of beer, I reacted similarly to Artevelde Kriek. This is a very simple and sweet kriek, bright pink and foamy, without a trace of sourness. Instead, it's cherry sherbet and cherry candy all the way down. I've said before that I have a soft spot for beers like this, and can happily drink them in quantity. This one I could definitely have had more of, especially as it's only 3.6% ABV. Huyghe's Floris Kriek is also 3.6% ABV, funnily enough.

As far as I can see, Huyghe does not have a beer at 7.2% ABV though plenty are in the ballpark. That's the strength of Artevelde Grand Cru, a dubbel. This one gets no marks for style fidelity, with only a sweet and juicy raisin note indicating that style. It's sweet all the way through, in fact, missing all of dubbel's usual spicing and breadiness. Instead, you get a bouquet of fresh flowers and a bar of warm milk chocolate, suggesting the square of Turkish delight from the Cadbury Milk Tray selection. While it may be a bit of a candy confection, I enjoyed it a lot, more so than many a serious dubbel. Beers can be complex, interesting, and a bit silly, all at the same time. Especially in Belgium.

In due course, a couple of days later, we were bussed out to Delirium HQ in Melle, just south of Ghent, for a look around. It was really interesting to see Belgian brewing done at such an enormous scale. In one corner of the original brewery is the current hospitality suite, due for transformation into the sort of high-concept brand home that all the Belgian breweries seem to be developing these days. It's almost surprising that Huyghe is lagging behind. For now, there are antique bottles and breweriana, some old drays and brewing equipment and, oh yes, a bar.

I knew Huyghe had an abbey beer these days, Averbode, but I'd never tasted it. May as well now, while it's free. This is a blonde ale of 7.5% ABV, perfectly clear of course, and with a somewhat hot and estery aroma of sweet peach and pear. I was surprised, then, to find funky fermenting sileage in the foretaste, before it gives way to the peach and pear again. A pinch of white pepper finishes it off. It's all pretty normal for a Belgian blonde ale but I didn't find myself wanting to trade my more usual Duvel or La Chouffe for this upstart. It gave me an impression of a beer that's designed to fill a niche, rather than having a personality of its own. That said, in the absence of anything better, or anyone seeking payment for it, it will absolutely do.

Guillotine has been part of the Huyghe range for as long as I've been drinking in Belgium, but even though it's widely available with widespread point-of-sale material in pubs, I had never taken the trouble to try it. Here we go then. It's surprisingly good. The ABV is up at 8.5% and that has delivered lots of extra complexity: I got pepper and peach and almond and butter on a crisp blonde base with overtones of toasty champagne about it. This genuinely gave me a similar feel to drinking Duvel, though it has a personality all its own. I doubt it will be very long before I drink my second one.

On the far side of Ghent, in the village of Evergem, was the other big local brewery, van Steenberge. It's best known for its Gulden Draak range of very strong beers. Here they've put significant investment into the hospitality suite, and there were no old carts or copper wort chillers in the slick international-hotel-style bar on the top floor of the brewhouse.

I knew there were lots of Gulden Draak variants but didn't realise quite how many. From the various interesting offshoots available, I was drawn straight to Cuvée Prestige Laphroaig: barrel-aged, of course, but only for 16 weeks. That's not long enough to boost the ABV above the standard version's 10.5% ABV, although the labelleing tolerance at this level is fairly generous, so maybe it has. The aroma is alluringly peaty, like rural Donegal on a crisp cool morning. The dragon asserts itself in the flavour, which is unmistakably Belgian: sweet, smooth and warming with toffee to the fore. The smoke element adds a different kind of sweetness to this, creating an impression of a candied turf sod. I feared it would be harsh and chemically phenolic, but it comes across in a much more nuanced way; balanced even. There were other barrel-aged versions of Gulden Draak available, and now I'm wishing I tried more of them. Oh well.

Instead, I got stuck into the more conventional material from van Steenberge. They have a lager called 1784, badged as an Export, and in that area strengthwise, at 4.8% ABV. Dortmund has nothing to worry about here: it's quite sickly and sweet, in a way that pale German lager never is. Brown sugar and treacle feature in my notes, so it's really not my sort of thing: sickly and difficult. There's a certain dry mineral-water bite in place of bitterness, and that doesn't really work to counteract the sticky. Perhaps this attempt at lager shouldn't be surprising from the Gulden Draak people.

And of course they've tried their hand at craft. "Baptist" is the brand for the "cool" styles, with its very inverted-commas cool branding, all block colours and angular shapes. I don't know if Baptist IPA is meant to be American-style, but again they've reverted to type and produced something still quintessentially Belgian. It's 6.7% ABV and brimming with apricot; the more American grapefruit bitterness reduced to a supporting role. It doesn't go all-in with the esters, though, so is substantially crisper than most Belgian IPAs. It's still a bit basic, all told, however, and it's clear that IPA is not something in which the brewery specialises.

You'd have thought to-style witbier wouldn't be too much of a challenge for them, but the first thing I noticed about draught Baptist Witbier was how clear it is. Still, it has the proper soft wheaty texture, and although it's sweeter than most, that's not a problem here the way it was with the lager. There's lots of orange cordial in both aroma and flavour, plus a lovely assertive peppery spice to balance it out. Like all good witbier, drinkability is paramount, and even on a drizzly November evening I could see this working as a perfect thirst-quencher in warmer weather. I've never seen any of the Baptist beers out in the wild, however, so I don't have a way to, eventually, test that.

About a kilometre down the road from the main brewery, van Steenberge has established a satellite microbrewery and restaurant in what look to be converted farm buildings. The restoration has been very tastefully done and it's all very classy, except for the try-too-hard craft-beer name they've given it: Hopspot. We were bussed down here for late evening drinks and snacks.

Pouring on arrival was Piraat Red, the cherry-flavoured version of their strong blonde ale. As one might expect, this was immensely sweet and syrupy, in the way that large Belgian breweries do crowd-pleasers. It did at least taste of cherry, though very much in a syrupy way. It was served on ice, which I guess is one way to hide the 10.5% ABV, and it worked too. You wouldn't think it was a strong beer, nor indeed a beer at all.

The sub-brands continued with Augustijn Donker, the dark one in their range of abbey beers. This was pretty good, if a little simplistic. Although it's sweet, there's a crispness too: a roasted grain element which provides a pleasing counterpoint to the more typical raisin and fig esters. On the downside, it's clean to the point of dull, a seemingly quite neutral yeast failing to bring the clove and nutmeg spices that make more famous Belgian beers in this style the masterpieces of complexity that they are. As a dumbed-down version, this will absolutely do. Any non-Belgian brewer would be very proud of it.

Gulden Draak Brewmaster was served up next: a straightforward barrel-aged version, using non-specific whisky casks. Still at 10.5% ABV it is unsurprisingly thick and chewy, with a light fizz and strong heat. There's an added whiff of vanilla from the oak, and also a strange and strong white wine effect, which I guess is also oak-derived. A kiss of sweet strawberry finishes it off. This isn't wildly different from basic Gulden Draak, and I can see why they subsequently went more interesting on the barrel front, with the likes of Laphroaig. It does offer a worthwhile twist on the original.

Dessert was another Baptist beer, and one which appears to be mostly exclusive to Hopspot: Offside. Details were not forthcoming, though it appears to be 5.2% ABV and brewed with cherries, or more likely cherry-flavoured syrup. It tastes of cherry candy and summer fruit jam: all very processed and artificial. A little bit of sherbet piquancy classes it up to a tiny degree, but otherwise this is another for the candy beer brigade. I don't know why they thought a serious group like ours would appreciate it. I didn't get a chance to ask anyone before we were herded back on to the bus and off into the murky Flemish darkness.

I have one more van Steenberge to report on, from way back at the opening reception. Fourchette is yet another brand departure, this time evoking fine French cuisine, with a website that looks like a seasonal perfume ad and claiming the involvement of "top chefs". Unconvincing marketing bullshit aside, it's a 7.5% ABV blend of wheat beer and tripel, and retains positive aspects of both: a soft and grainy wholesomeness forms the base, embellished with the warmth, fruit and clove spice of a tripel. I guess it's meant to be served with food, but worked perfectly well by itself. The brewers and blenders did actually come up with something very decent in answer to the risible concept behind it.

Events in Ghent wrapped up on a Thursday afternoon, and when I was planning the trip I thought: yes, I could come straight home, but it seemed like a bit of a waste of a weekend. From the list of just nice places to go which aren't far away, I had picked Haarlem, and headed there next.

Ghentish town

It was atmospherically foggy when I arrived into Ghent, for the judging of this year's Brussels Beer Challenge. Before getting stuck in to the contenders, there was the informalities of the opening evening's social programme, including a historic walking tour of the city.

That swung by the Marriott, an architectural accomplishment and landmark all by itself, where we indulged in a round of a city flagship beer, Gentse Gruut from the Stadsbrouwerij Gruut. This beer, around since 2009, is supposed to recreate the unhopped herbal beers of the middle ages. I like these odd meadowy novelties, but this one desn't lean in to the gimmick. Instead of herbs, this tastes like a pretty standard weissbier, all banana esters. A hint of sourness at the edge is the only nod to weirdness. It's OK, but not the kooky fun I was expecting.

"Inferno Gruut" sounds too interesting to pass up, so I gave that a go in the Ghent branch of pub chain Bier Central. It's broadly in the tripel style, being blonde in colour and 9% ABV. I braced myself for the inferno, but alas it proved quite lukewarm. The aroma is a pleasant but unobtrusive white pepper effect, and there's both that and green peppercorn in the flavour, but that's as spicy as it gets. The rest is quite standard tripel: honey and cereal, with an strong alcoholic warmth. Yes it's a little more spicy than typical tripel, but honestly I'm not sure I would recognise it as having been enhanced, since you can get a similar effect from some Belgian yeast strains. For a brewery with a fascinating unique selling point, the Stadsbrouwerij seems to be playing things very safe indeed.

There was time for one more at Bier Central and I choose an IPA from the Belgoo brand, Bloemekei. This arrived a brilliant clear golden colour, smelling of ripe and fresh grapefruit peel: bitter, but with a spicy edge. The flavour does an about face from this, however, delivering a dollop of meringue pie sweetness and not much else. The whole thing is closer to a blonde ale than the 6.5% ABV IPA it purports to be. It's decently made, but very plain fare, and doesn't give much by way of either Belgianness or IPAness. This was my last beer of day one and I had hoped for something with a bit more wallop.

We had a visit to local brewery-restaurant Dok on the cards for later, and they had beer pouring at the opening reception, including their pilsner Dok 13. I'm not especially enamoured of the style labelled "Belgian pils", but this Belgian pils didn't taste like a "Belgian pils" to me. Instead, it's far more north-German, with a heady, funky aroma of fermenting grass. The taste is softer, with a balanced crispness meeting a bite of fresh lemon. There's a fair amount of haze, and it benefits from the slight textural softness that this brings. All round, it's rather decent: accessible and sessionable, but with plenty of points of interest.

The same can be said of their flagship pale ale, Waar is Loca. 6.5% makes it a heavy contender, and you certainly get full value from that: not only the malt richness and alcoholic warmth, but a thick and resinous hop napalm as well. For all that, it looks quite innocent: an easy-going clear gold. But beware, this has hidden, and delicious, depths.

Dok itself occupies a hangar-like former warehouse space called Hal 16 (Up the Dubs!), converted to a restaurant and bar, with the brewing kit behind and above the counter. Contract brewing takes care of the flagships, but the onsite brewery produces a staggering array of beers, almost all of them one-time-only recipes. You can expect a couple of dozen options, plus guest beers, should you visit.

They had just launched a beer they made for a local dumpling restaurant: a lager made with rice and kombu seaweed, called Tina. "Crisp" doesn't begin to describe this one; it's incredibly dry and tastes more like a rye cracker than a beer. It does begin to get a little bit fruity as it warms, but by then it had already lost me. I found it quite harsh, almost ashen, and I'm sure something of this nature isn't meant to be difficult drinking. Still, the brewer seemed quite pleased with it, so what do I know?

Silly long names have gone somewhat out of fashion in beer, I'm happy to say, but Dok are keeping the tradition alive. If Ryan Got Hit By A Bus, There Would Be Another Ryan is a collaboration with Canadian wild beer specialist Trial & Ale. We were given an explanation of the name but I have too much respect for your time to recount it. This is in a rare old Belgian beer style called uytzet, which they describe as a kind of wild-fermented dubbel. It is only 5.5% ABV, however, and a cloudy dark amber colour. The first thing I noticed was the powerful Brettanomyces aroma: dry and funky, very much like the signature smell of Orval. And of course that's the centrepiece of the flavour, along with a beeswax bitterness. It's very highly attenuated, making it quite sharp and a little acrid. For me, it was one of those historical recreation beers that are academically interesting but not really much fun to drink. I would have got more enjoyment from an Orval.

Cherry Wally is a weak pun on the name of legendary Belgian singer Eddy Wally. It's a grape ale, blended with a barrel-aged saison, with cherries added in. That sounds quite convoluted but it absolutely pays dividends. Though it's an unattractive murky red, the aroma is almost lambic-like: funk mixed with gunpowder. The carbonation is low, which gives it a velvety texture and allows a beautifully rich real cherry flavour to coat the palate. It was designed for summer drinking, and is light-bodied, even though the ABV is a substantial 6.7%. The grape adds a balancing tannic dryness to the finish, and the whole thing is rounded and mature-tasting. You get all of the promised fruit with this, tasting very real, but also as though it belongs in the beer, not tacked on to it. It's beautifully done, and not the sort of high-end output I would expect from a brewpub.

The last beer they wanted to show off to us was Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, a white IPA brewed with (as the name makes clear) Comet hops. The collaborating brewery, Daoravida, is Brazilian, and both Brazilian and Belgian Comet hops went into the kettle. And the hops are the main feature here: I didn't detect any contribution from the herbs and spices that so often muck up the IPA element of white IPA. Here, it's a straightforward and attractive zest and resin aroma, leading to a sharp and invigorating lime and sweet onion flavour, before finishing long and dank and oily. Job done: it's a beaut. The name and recipe have nerdy self-indulgence written all over them, but I cannot argue with the top-notch quality of the result.

Show-and-tell ended and we were left to our own devices. With a list as long as this brewpub's, it was inevitable that there were a few more I wanted to try before leaving. Is that a black IPA? Even my seen-it-all Belgian fellow judge was amused by its name: Black & Lekker. Surely someone has done that one before. Regardless, this Black & Lekker proved to be exactly as described, starting beautifully floral and doused in rosewater, before a tingly jolt of spiced red cabbage and then a long, luxurious, chocolate finish. 7% ABV means it's nicely full-bodied, but not hot nor heavy nor any way unbalanced. There's a lightness of touch to the whole thing; a polish, which makes it incredibly enjoyable and moreish. I don't know how long it'll be around for, but black IPA enthusiasts should seek it out.

My deoch an dorais at Dok was in another relatively rare craft style: Scotch ale. I absolutely did not ask anyone why it was called Louwee Kan Het Niet Aan ("Louwee Can't Handle It"), but I'm sure it's hilarious to at least three people. This is a bumptious 8% ABV and smells heavily of toffee, but is surprisingly not hot, coming across as smooth and sweet. There's a hint of smoke and burnt caramel to add character to what's otherwise a warm and chewy malt-driven dark amber ale. I didn't do any judging of Scotch ale (I don't think there were any in the competition), but I would deem this to be fully true to style and a particularly good example.

Where next? I discovered that there was one Craftonian beer bar in Ghent, something which I think is still very rare in provincial Belgium. The owner/manager/barman of Bar Beenhouwer says he sources much of his stock in the Netherlands. We had plenty of time to chat, what with me being the only customer in the little L-shaped bar at 9pm on a Wednesday night, while the traditional cafés along the street were teeming.

I opened my tab with Saison Pot de Fleur, from SPO, a brewery in eastern France. This is a golden wild ale that's been aged in Islay whisky casks. It's a strange idea, but it works, and draws in characteristics from each of the elements. It's clear and cleanly sour, with a sharp bite of primarily citric acidity. I didn't think that would match well with warm peaty whisky, but it does, almost like there's a tumbler of decent malt served alongside. The saison side of the equation gets a little bit lost, but there is an earthy, farmy, straw dryness in here which is in keeping with that. This is daring, very interesting, and most importantly enjoyable to drink: exactly what I come to bars like this for.

The draught menu's one nod to local was Sunrise, from Ghent's own Stroom brewery. It was early November, so still just about socially acceptable to be serving a pumpkin beer. This 6%-er covers all the basics but little else. It's quite heavy and sweet, with lots of crisp brown sugar and an oily, syrupy, pecan-pie sweet side. Autumnal and American is the spec, and that's exactly what you get with no further embellishments. I can't see this convincing any sceptics of the benefits of pumpkin, and pumpkin-spiced, beer, but I liked it as a desserty confection, albeit not the more extreme sort. I doubt there are many Belgian breweries on the pumpkin bandwagon.

Once again, I wanted something big to go out on, and figured the 10% ABV hazy American triple IPA would be a good bet. That was Dank Hunt from Ohio brewery DankHouse. The name makes a big promise as regards the sort of hop flavours to expect, but they didn't really materialise. Instead it's vanilla all the way through, with only some minor sweet topnotes of baked peach and pear. Surprisingly, there's no real heat from all of this, and it's easy drinking in a way that triple IPA probably shouldn't be. I got on OK with it, liking the cleanness in particular, but the lack of hop fireworks is a bit of a serious flaw.

Today's post finishes on a sad story. When I was first discovering Belgium, Waterhuis aan de Bierkant in Ghent was deemed one of the nation's great pubs. I've visited a couple of times over the years and had always found it a charming little place; a touch ramshackle, but well-kept and with a great beer list. At some point in recent years, local megabrewer Huyghe, the Delirium Tremens people, took ownership and have done a most unsympathetic renovation while skewing the beer list heavily towards their own products. For me, it has sucked all the charm out of the place.

I can't complain too hard, however, as I was there to claim the free beer which brewery was offering all the judges. Huyghe has revived (commandeered, perhaps) one of Ghent's historic local beer brands: Artevelde. I chose Artevelde Leute: the people's beer? It's a 6.2% ABV blonde ale and very sweet with it, piling in layers of vanilla-flavoured custard and bubblegum. What nuance is present is a kind of nutty almond or marzipan, one which only adds to the cakey, dessertish feel. The brewery claims it has pilsner character, making me immediately unlikely to drink any of their pilsner. I was as disappointed by the beer as I was with the pub.

Of course, Huyghe featured big in my few days in Ghent. More on that, as well as their arch-rival Ghentish family brewer, in the next post.

Encroaching darkness

Now that we're properly into winter, I get to look at some of this season's new release stouts. It's called journalism; look it up.

First, we have the return of a beer series from days of yore: Lublin to Dublin. This is a collaboration between Polish brewery Pinta (not in Lublin) with Irish brewery O'Hara's (not in Dublin) and was an annual release stout during the last decade. For the re-up it's a nitro-canned coffee stout and 5% ABV. The nitro works well for the visuals, providing a flat-topped crema over the dense black-brown liquid. For all that nitrogenation deadens aroma, there's a good waft of coffee, all fresh and sweet and oily. The texture is smooth to the point of flat, and the flavour doesn't quite bring the coffee suggested by the aroma. It's sweet and creamy, causing me to check the ingredients for the presence of lactose, but oatmeal seems to be the sole party responsible. Then there's a strange savoury tang in the middle of the flavour: slightly stale and sweaty, with a mineral bitterness, almost sour, meeting the dark grain's sharp roasted edge. I thought this was going to be quite a cuddly beer, but it turns harsh very quickly. I took my time over it but didn't find it softening as it went along. Normally I'm fine with the more serious and grown-up sort of stouts. This, though, didn't sit well. I think it's the disconnect between the joyful coffee-cream aroma and a much sterner flavour. Try to avoid that if you can, brewers.

The Winter Seasonal 2024 from Hope is an Export Stout, and a proper one, with 7.5% ABV and 48 IBUs. It's a very dense black in the glass, with a thin but persistent head. I thought I was in for a bitter one, but it's very chocolatey, set on a surprisingly light body. Though the hops are low-key, it's still good, and has enough character to justify the "export" label while also being accessible and easy-going, having much in common with the lighter sort of session-strength stout. There's an almost wine-like dark fruit leading on from the chocolate, with an accompanying heat. Beyond that, I don't have much else to say: it's enjoyable, in an unchallenging sort of way. If it weren't for that ABV, I could have happily had a few of these in sequence.

Also very much designed with the season in mind is Winterland 2024 from Kinnegar. They've changed the concept again, this year giving us a Salted Chocolate Stout of 7% ABV. There's a slightly Christmassy spiced wine effect from the aroma: mature grape tannins and a dusting of oregano or rosemary. It's fizzier than I would have expected given the style and strength, but does get properly creamy when allowed to flatten out. The chocolate is immediately perceptible in the flavour as the dark and crumbly sort, classy and probably expensive. The bitterness from that segues into a different kind: green and sharp, like cabbage leaf or cooked spinach. I had forgotten about the salt, but it makes an appearance at the very end, just a gentle kiss of salinity, right on the lips. I liked this. Anyone who thinks they're getting a box of Milk Tray in a can will be in for a shock because it's serious stuff: grown-up tasting, but delicious.

Possibly the first smoked stout I ever encountered was the one called simply Imperial, brewed by Cuilán Loughnane during his tenure at Messrs Maguire. It was light-bodied and drinkable, despite being 7% ABV and loaded with peated malt. Ever since, that's what comes to mind when I see the words "smoked stout", though few live up to it. I was ready to try again when I saw Galway Bay had collaborated on a smoked stout brewed by Czech brewery Sibeeria. Tourist Triangle is only 4.2% ABV, however, and the smoke is subtle to the point of invisibility. The aroma is largely caramel or treacle, smelling more like a Czech tmavý lager than an Irish stout. Its flavour, too, is mostly quite sweet, though the caramel is joined by both a burnt-toast roasted grain element and a faint lacing of savoury smoke. I'm not sure I would have identified this had I not been expecting it, although it does build on the palate as the pint goes down, leaving an ashen residue by the end. While it's certainly not kippery or phenolic, this doesn't quite suit me. Mostly I would like more of the smoke -- a bit of barbecue char or meaty umami -- but my main issue is that caramel sweet side, something I associate with breweries that haven't quite got the hang of stout. Maybe the dryness from the smoked malt was supposed to balance that out, but it doesn't: both sit as parallel tracks in a flavour profile that would benefit from better integration.

The archaeology-themed barrel-aged imperial stouts from Lough Gill are also back for another round. This year the newcomer is Oseberg, named for its fermentation with kveik, though the barrels were also an unusual choice: Palo Cortado sherry. I don't think it quite worked. The base beer is a tad characterless, with little more to offer than a basic milk chocolate flavour. Maybe the idea is to keep things simple to let the barrel complexity do the heavy lifting, but perhaps because it's a wine cask rather than a spirit one, the barrel part of the flavour is also low. There is merely a wisp of raisin and prune flavour, but a whole honking amount of booze heat with it. It's 13.4% ABV, so a certain amount of flame is expected, but this has passed well beyond warming and into hot, lacking any mature mellowness. While the beer isn't flawed as such, it's not the equal of the others in the series. Oseberg doesn't need to be back next year.

That was a surprise: Lough Gill doesn't usually put a foot wrong in the strong-and-dark arena. Kinnegar and Hope are still nailing it, though, and I would like to see much more by way of black beer from the latter.

Freeze right there

Is Sierra Nevada's ...Little Thing series of beers starting to run out of ideas? The preponderance of cryogenically frozen hop products is the hook on which they've hung this latest one: Cool Little Thing. For such a deep-cut, nerds-only, concept, you might think they'd put some factual information about it on the cans, but there's nothing. I had to go to the website to find out that cryo versions of Mosaic, Comet, Crystal and El Dorado are what's involved here. The end product is a sizeable 7.5% ABV, where some breweries might start calling it a double IPA.

It's a hazy orange in the glass, with lots of awkward foam making pouring go slowly. The aroma is very nicely juicy -- sweet jaffa, shading to mandarin -- with a lacing of sterner dank resins in the background. The texture is very definitely on the double IPA threshold, thick like an undiluted cordial, with the same sort of concentrated orange flavour. The juice is gone, as is the dank, leaving only a heavy sweetness and an unsubtle limey bitterness. It does not taste like the epitome of hop optimisation, even if it does smell a bit like that.

I chewed through my twelve American ounces of it without much else to note. It's a bang-average strong American IPA, and no more than that. Occasionally, the Little Things throw out something exceptional, and I had high hop hopes, but this isn't one of their best, at least by the time it cold-chained its way from North Carolina to Kimmage. I see "053024" printed on the arse end of the tin, suggesting it was less than three months old when I opened it. If the super-duper iceman hops aren't still doing the business within that timeframe then I don't see the point. A showcase for the technology it is not.

Bluenosing

Dublin has an unofficial beer twin city in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Their respective annual beer festivals are run by the same person, and for the Dublin event this year he arranged for two Halifax breweries to be represented. I didn't get the chance to try any at the festival, but was happy to see a selection of their cans in Craft Central afterwards, and picked up a pair from each.

Garrison seems like a sober and well-established brewery, with its bold-coloured, all-caps branding. When an IPA is called Hoppy Boy, you know what to expect. 6.5% ABV gives it reasonable heft, and I think they're being a bit playful with the style, referencing Halifax's position on the very east coast, while the beer itself is only slightly hazy. A fine thick head of foam is another sign of a brewery going about its business in a serious and organised way. The aroma is cleanly zesty, offering up a mixed spritz of tart jaffa and sweeter mandarin. The flavour is somewhat more savoury, leading with a kind of dry cracker and fried onion effect, before the fruit arrives later. Said fruit is still oranges, but tastes somewhat processed: dried, candied, or distilled into essence. That's sweet and creamy to begin, turning more oily and bitter towards the end, so there are elements of both coastal styles in here. This is solidly made and workmanlike, but don't expect fireworks. While I'm not saying that breweries running since 1997 have a particular safe-and-steady way of making their beer, this IPA suggests that there might be something to the theory. It's not an exciting beer, but I'd say it's a dependable one.

I also picked a sour beer from Garrison, called Sour To The People. This makes no claim to complexity, stating clearly that it's kettle soured but giving no detailed tasting notes otherwise. It's 5.5% ABV, a hazy orange in the glass, with little by way of lasting head: so far, so typical. The aroma is watery with an uninviting plasticky sweetness, but the flavour is more pleasant. "Tart from the start" says the can, and indeed it is, delivering a punchy mineral sourness right at the front of the first sip. A minimal amount of fruit acidity comes after it: satsuma zest and grapefruit pith. This doesn't last long, and we're back to the almost chemical-tasting sourness soon after. Beneath it, the base beer is dry and crisp, with a little Ryvita wholegrain crunch. This not a beer of nuance: it promises you sour and that's pretty much all you get. I think they could have upped the hop quotient and made it more interesting, but I can't argue with its honest simplicity. Sour beer that's actually sour is enough of a rarity these days that this was a pleasant surprise.

The other brewery is 2 Crows, and I'm starting with their "Northeast IPA", Pollyanna. That means it's hazy, and it's quite a strong one at 7.3% ABV. The aroma is freshly tropical, giving me tinned lychee and pineapple rings. That transfers subtly to the flavour, which is a little understated for a big beer. Pineapple is the core taste, but there's a spiced element to it as well; a little cinnamon or paprika dusting. The internet tells me they've used some class of a wild yeast for this, so maybe that's why it's a little unorthodox, but it's not hugely dissimilar to lots of other hazy IPAs. I found it decent but ultimately a bit boring. This strength and 64 IBUs should add up to something with a bit of wallop. This is more of a gentle tickle. Perhaps the name is a suggestion that you should make the best of it.

Something a bit different is Bière de Coupage, a blend of hop-forward saison and a barrel aged sour beer. This is 5.9% ABV and a bright sunset yellow in the glass with a fine white head. The aroma is luscious, offering up exotic lychee, white pear and botrytised grape, with a pinch of white pepper seasoning. The flavour emphasises the fruit side of the equation, but keeps things clean and dry: a burst of peach cordial fades after a moment, replaced by flinty mineral sparks and crisp dried grapefruit peel. A stronger earthy funk, suggesting blue cheese to me, builds as it goes along. It's all very subtly done, in a way that tastes much more European than new-world to me. I also couldn't see the joins between the blended beers: hoppiness and sourness dovetail perfectly here, and none of it seems efforty or gimmicked. The strength is maybe a little high for the thin-textured and light-tasting beer it is, but it's extremely well done overall, including all one could want from souring, barrel-ageing and blending.

I don't see that we need regular imports of Canadian IPAs: we're quite self-sufficient in that style. It is good to see what they're up to on the sour side, however. For that I appreciated this set.