A foot in both camps

I hadn't seen much from Munich's answer to American-style craft brewing, Camba, in quite a while. Then three arrived at once.

Chiemsee Hopla is where we start. I'm guessing they're actually pitching to the American market now, evidenced by the volume presented in imperial units on the front of the can. It's a pale lager of 5.1% ABV, hopped with Citra, El Dorado and Hallertau Tradition, hoping for the best of both worlds, I guess.

It's on the pale side, given the decent strength, and there's a little haze going on. The aroma is rich and malt-driven, which I wasn't expecting: not much hop in evidence, though the can is less than five months old. That malt aroma doesn't really come through to the flavour, and here the beer is subtly fruity with a tannic dryness, like peach tea, with Citra adding a pinch of barely perceptible piney sharpness to the finish. The body is substantial, meaning it's missing proper lager crispness, which is unfortunate. While it is cleanly flavoured, it could easily pass for an ordinary American-style pale ale. Not a complaint, just an observation. This is fine.

More fireworks were expected from Camba's Imperial IPA, the name evidencing another Americanism. This is 8.9% ABV and hopped with Columbus, Citra and Amarillo to 77 IBUs, suggesting it's going to be hella bitter. It doesn't look great, short on head and the medium amber body full of suspended yeasty clumps. Malt is promised in the description and it certainly smells sweet, with more than a hint of toffee hitting up against funky, ripe-fruit hops.

The two sides works quite harmoniously in the flavour. Yes, it's hopped in a huge way, with a spicy bitterness arriving first on the tongue. Immediately this is softened by the pillowy body and a marmalade and spongecake sweet side, with a zesty fresh mandarin element too. That mutes the bitterness somewhat, so it's not quite a 2010-style overhopped tongue-melter, but rather the balanced sort of extreme beer. I liked how it goes about its business, delivering bigness and boldness but with nuance and balance as well. It's not the first time I've noticed this in a German take on a new-world style, and it's always welcome.

Finally, I thought I was in for something uncharacteristically traditional when I came to Jager Weisse, a weissbier, and presented not in a can but a half litre bottle. That this wasn't going to be by-the-numbers was first indicated by the appearance, which has an almost kristall level of clarity, though that's not mentioned on the label. An aroma of banana? Absolutely not: this smells like an American IPA, of grapefruit and lemon zest. It transpires that Simcoe and Chinook hops have been used here, putting us perhaps in "hopfenweisse" territory, though judging by the aroma it's not one interested in harnessing the traditional weissbier aspects.

There is a sweetness to the flavour, and a tiny hint of clove ester, but that's as close to the profile as it gets. Otherwise the taste is dominated by the C-hops, low-balling the citric bitter side but emphasising candied lemon and lime jelly. As such, it's a rather jolly affair: not especially challenging but bright and spritzy, unserious but characterful, and as precisely constructed as one would expect from a Bavarian brewery. There is much to like here.

They've done a great job of matching American flavours with Bavarian quality. If these beers are landing in the US, I doubt the drinkers there will find anything too unfamiliar in them.

The art of Hope

Deckchair dude, Hope's longest-serving employee, is back for another season on the can of their summer beer. For 2024 it's nothing fancier than a New England IPA with Mosaic, Idaho 7 and Azacca. It has been designed for easy sunny drinking, and is a mere 5.5% ABV.

In the glass it's a little bit hazy, resembling dilute orange cordial, with a big pile of awkward foam. The aroma is pithier than I expected, but far from unpleasant. Hope is one of the few breweries to display their IBUs, and this beer's 8 suggests it should be barely bitter at all, but it is: not quite pithy but certainly much more zest than juice. Satsuma and tangerine dominate, giving a zingy buzz in the opener and lasting right through to a lasting tangy finish.

If the aim was to resemble an orange-flavoured fizzy drink then they've nailed it. This flavour profile, more often than not, contains a savoury pinch of unwelcome onion -- Mosaic's dark side -- but there's none of that here. It's fairly simple all told, but decent and very accessible. That's fine for a summer special.

The bad-AI can art fairy appears to have visited Hope and provided them with the dismal label on their previous special, Brewers Edition. This is a double IPA, a big one at 8.5% ABV, and hopped with Citra and Centennial, ramping up the IBUs to 70.

They claim cutting-edge hop technology has been used, though it looks very old-fashioned, being amber coloured with just a slight blur of haze. They weren't kidding about the bitterness: it's a full spectrum of citrus zest, tangy metal, hard wax and crunchy green vegetables, starting slow but gradually coming to dominate the flavour. The malt manages to hold it in check, however, sacrificing any residual sweetness to counteract the possibility of harshness.

The result is a little two-dimensional, in the way that early American double IPAs were, but is still delightfully clean, enjoyably punchy, and altogether worthwhile. It's very different to current IPA fashion, and that's reason enough for it to have been created.

Solid stuff here, from one of Ireland's most reliable breweries. Any lazy shortcuts are confined to the outside of the cans.

Tropic of chancer

Time for another round-up of the pale ales of Ireland. Here, randomly, is what's new over the last couple of months.

Hopkins & Hopkins has spread its wings a little, though still strictly local, with a new pale ale which went on cask at The Porterhouse in Temple Bar, the first employment that beer engine has had since Covid. It delights in the pun-tastic name of Sitric and is quite a deep amber colour once it's settled. Though definitely citric, the aroma is English to my mind, smelling of orange peel and marmalade. This intensifies in the flavour, adding fresh and zingy satsuma and a crisp cookie base. After the English oranges fade, there's a much more American lemon and lime bite. And while I'm describing these elements separately, really they're all perfectly integrated into a single harmonious whole: bright, clean and expertly balanced, smoothed out neatly by the gentle carbonation. It's a magnificent work of understated beauty, a superb advertisement for cask beer done with a proper buzzy hop character, and I hope it gets further afield. Though within walking distance from the Smithfield brewery which produces it, of course.

It's been a while since we had a canned special edition from Ballykilcavan, and I think we can blame the new deposit return scheme for that. Here at last is Clancy's Cans #14: Batchelor's [sic] Day IPA, named for having been brewed on 29th February and nothing to do with baked beans. It's described as a "tropical IPA": a light 4.8% ABV and contains top-notch hops Citra and Nelson Sauvin. I was apprehensive when I found it poured an unattractive murky ochre, and prayed that the oxidation fairy hadn't come calling. The aroma assuaged that worry, giving some lovely fresh white grape and general fruit salad notes. The flavour isn't anything quite so clean. There's a distinctly untropical toffee malt taste, and a savoury earthiness from the thick pall of suspended proteins. Not that the hops get buried: there's still the high-octane fuel oil side of Nelson and a certain amount of pithy citrus, but it's not the best use of these varieties I've encountered. I guess if you're looking for something along dark English bitter lines, this would fit that better than it fits new-world IPA. What it's definitely not is tropical.

Wicklow Wolf celebrated its head brewer's 40th (aww!) with Barberhop Quartet, an IPA with Amarillo, Bravo, Galaxy and Strata CGX, the latter of which I believe to be a kind of motor oil. It has WEST COAST IPA in all caps on the label and then pours yellow-orange and hazy. Lads. There's a fun peppery spice in the aroma, which was unexpected, alongside the standard gentle citrus fruit. In the flavour, that spark is still there: a strange mix of cap gun smoke, lemon meringue pie, earth, funk and toast. It doesn't really have any brightness, however: neither zingy grapefruit nor softly slick juice. Everything seems a bit processed; at a remove. The ABV is only 5.5% ABV, so maybe I'm being unfair by expecting fireworks. I would have wanted something brighter and bolder for my 40th birthday, not that I'll be seeing it again.

With Sidechain, Wide Street is offering us two beers in one. It's a West Coast IPA fermented with Brettanomyces, and they say that fresh it shows off the American hop character, while ageing will bring out the Brett complexity. My can was a fresh one. In the glass it's quite a dark murky orange, suggesting an extended ageing in the brewery, perhaps. The aroma is a tangy orangeade and sherbet thing, calm and subtle. It's big bodied, and doubtless the 5.7% ABV has something to do with that, but maybe some of it is the thick gummy character that goes with Brett. Flavourwise there's nothing terribly special: more of that orangeyness and a waxy bitter side, making me think, again, of English hops rather than American ones. There's no deeper complexity and the finish is quick. Fine but unimpressive is the verdict here. I'm sceptical about the idea of ageing it to see what happens, but I may just give that a go: look out for it on the other blog.

A malt-driven pale ale variant next: White Hag's Mullán, an Extra Special Bitter, for once not referencing the Electricity Supply Board, which most Irish beers in this style do. It's Extra Very Special at 6% ABV and is a dark mahogany colour; almost, but not quite, garnet-clear. The aroma suggests treacle, Black Forest gateau and just calories in general. Early summer seems an odd time to put it out. Hops barely feature in the flavour, present in the background and very English, offering a mere tang of flowers and minerals. For the rest, it's rich and sticky dark malt: more treacle, burnt caramel, and a growing cocoa character as it warms. The hops make their biggest contribution to the finish, adding a cleansing bite that balances the sweet malt nicely. I was dubious about that high strength but by the half way mark I understood why they did it that way. There's an extra complexity deriving from it; a bigness and boldness that wouldn't feature with a lesser gravity. While, yes, this would be a classic on cask, in the can they've captured a lot of what I think it would be. Buladh bos, Mullán.

I've reached the stage where the word "tropical" on a beer label gives me the fear. There are lots of beers that do taste of tropical fruit, but somehow the ones which put the word front and centre rarely do -- see Ballykilcavan above, for example. Lough Gill is the latest to try their hand, with Gone Surfing, a hazy IPA created in collaboration with Dutch brewery Baxbier. It's the sunset colour of mango flesh and does smell of a mixed fruit purée, incorporating guava, cantaloupe and tinned peaches. So far, so tropical. It's a little more dry and pointy on tasting, bringing peppercorn spice, oily garlic and peach skin rather than flesh: bitterer than the aroma promised. All of this is heavy and dense, feeling all of its 6% ABV and more. Final assessment: not tropical. This lacks the smooth and cooling effect that the word implies. It's absolutely fine as yet another hazy IPA, but unless they're your favourite thing in the world (which might explain their ubiquity) this doesn't have anything new to offer.

Those dreaded words appear too on the label of Tiki Trail, brewed for Aldi, again by Lough Gill. It's a pale yellow colour, fairly clear, and a sizeable 6.3% ABV. The aroma is quite pithy, reminding me of peach skin and mandarin peel. I suspected I was in for a bit of bitterness and indeed I was. There's an almost smoky savoury element before it reverts to pygmy oranges: satsuma, kumquat and the like. And that's your lot; a rapid finish ensues. It's not a bad beer for a supermarket cheapie, and those familiar with the tall cans of IPA the brewery does for Aldi will find it has a lot in common. It's real middle of the road stuff, the name and concept seeking to lure punters in, but then giving them none of the fruity party fun they might have felt entitled to expect.

Also via Aldi is Nasc, a session IPA of 4% ABV from O Brother. Dammit, I shouldn't have read the label: it does say it's tropical, though also citrus. It's quite hazy in the glass, a pale shade of orange and topped by a handsome stack of white foam. The aroma is certainly more citric than tropical, a sharp kick of lime suggesting that Citra herself might be in the house. They've added oats and got great value from them, giving it a lovely smooth body and greatly enhancing the sessionability by removing any sharp edges. The flavour is quite simple, but enjoyable too: a clean zestiness, of lemon and jaffa orange, delivering just enough bittering to pinch the side of the tongue. There's a certain lighter juiciness as well, but nothing I'd specifically call tropical. At least they didn't put it in huge letters on the front of this one. As a straightforward session IPA in the softly modern style it works well. Am I imagining the existence of IPA tropicality?

Third Barrel seems to be persisting with the terrible can artwork. I don't know what thought process gave rise to the prompt which rendered six-digit zombie brewer Dolly, but I know shite when I see it. One might think that Cup of Ambition should be a coffee beer but it's a hazy juicy IPA of 6.5% ABV. And it's a very good one, a demonstration of why even the most ardent of haze sceptics should give one a go now and again. The brewer says it tastes of wild berries, passionfruit and mango, and it's the last of these I get most: definitely and delightfully tropical. It's all (unspecified) New Zealand hops, but subtly done, adding side notes of tart gooseberry and rich coconut to the fruit. There's a tiny scratch of grit in the texture but mostly smooth and juicy prevails, as it should. I found it delightfully gluggable, and neither the high ABV nor woejus label would put me off opening another.

Is O'Hara's trolling me by calling their new one Sub Tropical IPA? Ahhh, we never said it was tropical. It's a 4% ABV session job, draught only at time of writing, and a lightly hazy golden. I don't think it's sweet enough nor full enough to be properly tropical, but there is fruit. There's a kind of dankly bitter feature in the aroma and at the centre of the taste so it's not lacking in character. A soft citrus -- tangerine and candied lemon peel -- follows. The herbal bitterness is solidly enjoyable and lasts into the finish, longer than might be expected with so light a beer. Overall, it's a jolly, punchy thirst-quencher, arriving at just the right time of year.

Dead Centre does not say Machine Learning is tropical. They do say it's a New England-style IPA, and it's one of the clearer, oranger ones, which is rarely a good sign. And it tastes fantastically tropical. Idaho 7 and Eldorado give it a multicoloured flavour of mango, guava and pineapple. On a different run-through I might bemoan the lack of bittering balance and the indecently quick finish. Not today though. I was happy to welcome the sweet and tangy fruit, as well as the soft base they've set it on. Maybe 5.4% ABV is a little on the high side for something so quaffably undemanding, but I'm not complaining. Dead Centre is a brewpub and is therefore well within its rights to produce this sort of pintable beer. It was a pleasant surprise to see it turning up in Dublin on draught.

There's also a new double IPA -- unapologetically West Coast -- from Galway Bay. It sets out its stall with the name Beyond the Pines. Pale and golden, it smells more dank than piney, with an almost sweaty sort of funk. It is oily, however, with lots of tongue-coating resin. I don't know that I'd call it piney as such: there's a lack of sharpness. The flavour sticks, literally, to the leafy, sticky dankness, adding a softer peach or apricot juiciness. I was never a fan of the more extreme sort of dry and bitter American IPA -- hi Sculpin! -- but now that they're a rarity I have a better appreciation of the novelty. This is one of those, and it doesn't quite sit right with me. I need a bit more citrus or else some balancing crystal malt. By going all-in with the dank they've produced something too cheesey for comfort. Fun for one, but I'm glad I turned down the upselling opportunity to buy a pint of it.

That's all for now. Tropical-watch will no doubt continue indefinitely. Be vigilant!

Ronbridge

Mr Ronald Pattinson of Amsterdam was in Dublin last month, as he has mentioned on his own blog. The hard taskmasters at the National Homebrew Club forced him to talk at length about brewing history in front of a crowd at UnderDog. The English visitor's presence was marked by the coincidental appearance of two new English beers on the taps, both single hop experiments from Thornbridge.

It felt like there was a bit of a deconstructed Jaipur thing going on, because the first on was Quiet Storm Ahtanum. Ahtanum is a fairly obscure American hop, and one I only really know from Jaipur and its subsequent clone, BrewDog Punk. The beers were that sort of strength too: 5.5% ABV. This one was a very pale yellow with a slight haze and lots of fizz, a carbonic bite disturbing the flavour somewhat. The flavour is very interesting and not at all what I was expecting from it, being a bowl of varied ripe fruits, including peach, apricot, white grape and red apple -- funky and foedtid, in a most pleasurable way. It's very sweet with it, and gets sweeter as it goes, having an element of strawberry too by the end. A tannic finish dries it out enough for the sweetness not to be a problem. I liked it. There's lots of complexity for a single hop beer, and it had a very modern profile: surprising for essentially a legacy hop. I didn't miss the lack of bittering.

When that ran out it was replaced by Quiet Storm Cascade, and I thought I would be on more familiar ground with this. Surprise! There was no earthy bitterness here, and no punchy grapefruit or resin. Instead, it's a rich and nutty dessert, suggesting nougat or almond paste. The fizz problem from the other one has been solved, as it was lovely and smooth. I searched hard for any familiar features, and only towards the end did I notice a very faint metallic rasp, like you get from Cascade's ancestor Fuggle. I'm guessing both of these were made using some class of fruit-enhancing IPA yeast, because I'm pretty sure Cascade wouldn't turn out like this from a neutral strain. Regardless, it was very tasty, if not quite as interesting as the Ahtanum one.

There are loads of Quiet Storms in this series and I'll be looking out for others. Single hop beers are usually about demonstrating the specific characteristics of an individual hop. These ones, conversely, appear to be putting a new twist on them.

Eight Degrees of separation

I really missed the regular new releases from Eight Degrees Brewing, which came to an end after the brewery was bought out in 2018. So, shortly after it was re-purchased by its founders earlier this year, I was excited to see the first in the new era of specials arrive in shops. I didn't even mind that it's a hopfenweisse, which is far from my favourite kind of beer.

That they named it Déjà Vu had me scurrying to check if it's a re-brew of something they've done before, but this is the first hopfenweisse from them I can find. It's 7.5% ABV, and I guess is in the kristalhopfenweisse sub-style because it's completely clear and Helles-gold. It's on the money for the flavour, however, having estery fruitiness meeting a harder hop bitterness to create a kind of green banana effect. That's the bit that puts me off hopfenweisse. Mandarina Bavaria is the hop, which is actually German, and the way it causes a clash suggests it's fulfilling its role as a new-world substitute. When the sharply acidic fruit fades, the flavour becomes more like an old fashioned American IPA, with harsh pine and grapefruit pith. That's not really an improvement, however.

I don't know how it is that the originators of hopfenweisse, Schneider and Brooklyn, absolutely nailed it on the first and second try, and then nobody else has managed to make it work properly, or at least to my taste, since. Still, Eight Degrees is back, and at least they didn't open with a hazy IPA. If it's to be beer styles that were briefly fashionable 15 years ago, let's have a black IPA next.

Assorted naughtiness

Rascals did a brand refresh recently, and with it came a new core-range IPA, called Sidekick. It's 5.3% ABV and promises "retro" citrus and resin. In the glass it's a clear golden-amber colour, quite reminiscent of Sierra Nevada pale ale. Is that the aim? The aroma has a modicum of modernity about it, smelling bright and juicy rather than zestily sharp. The flavour opens on a certain floral note -- a reminder that American beers of this kind are cousins of English bitter -- before the harder grapefruit and pine arrives to make the middle and finish. Happily, the lighter, more tropical, fruit side is tasteable too, bringing a more sophisticated balancing sweetness than you'd get from crystal malt's toffee alone. Overall it's rather enjoyable, and does tick the retro box quite nicely. It slightly calls into question Rascals's positioning as a trend-loving yoof-orientated brewery, but maybe we all have to grow up eventually. Learning to enjoy Cascade is part of that.

The last beer to bear the old logo was Haywire, a saison produced in collaboration with Kinnegar. It's a gentle affair, only 3.8% ABV and sunny yellow colour, looking like a witbier. There's plenty of flavour, however: zesty lemon for days, with a dry grain crunch and just a hint of earthy farmhouse goings-on. A smear of tropical fruit becomes apparent when it warms. It could stand to be even drier, and the only thing I can ding it on is a somewhat sugary lemon squash effect, particularly in the aroma. The label tells us it's made with Motueka hops and cardamom, one of which must be responsible for the lemon zest/squash character but I couldn't tell you which: the beer doesn't really taste of either ingredient. It's good, though, and well suited to outdoor drinking on a warm day. Don't expect a masterpiece of dry farmyard complexity and you'll be fine on it.

A tap takeover at UnderDog in early April presented the opportunity to try a couple of beers from the pilot range, and what appears to be a regular, but draught only, stout. That's called Bullseye and seems to be pitched right at the mainstream, being 4% ABV and nitrogenated. Well, a bit nitrogenated. The pint wasn't exactly a ball of cream. Although the head was thick, it faded quickly, like it didn't have the necessary amount of the foam-preserving gas. That left it feeling quite flat. Still, the flavour was very decent, avoiding any possible accusation of blandness and showing a healthy quantity of milk chocolate and sweet wafer biscuit. A little more roast or hop bittering would have balanced it nicely, and I got an unwelcome twang of buttery diacetyl. So, it's not stout perfection, but it will serve, and it's good to see another Irish microbrewery recognise that stout like this still has a place among the IPAs and whatnot.

The pilots at the same event started with a New Zealand Pilsner, a light 4.3% ABV while dark and moody in appearance; rose gold, almost red, though perfectly clear. As an expression of Kiwi hops it's magnificent, providing a gorgeous mix of ripe stonefruit and a hard herbal bitterness. I wasn't expecting the bonus oily sweetness of marzipan, but welcomed it when it arrived near the end. The texture is full and rounded, something I'm guessing might have something to do with all the oily hops, more than the gravity. At the same time it has a refreshing crisp bite in keeping with the strictures of the style. I loved how such a kaleidoscope of hop flavour could fit into what remains an accessible drinking lager. My only real criticism is that it may not go any further than the one-off pilot kit series. It deserves a wider audience, I say selfishly.

It couldn't be a Rascals rundown without something a bit silly, and today it was Smoothie Sour, one of those fingerpaint purple-to-grey jobs, this one including blackberry, gooseberry and strawberry. It's not usually my thing but I gave it a fair shake and, no, it's not really for me. There is a certain amount of sourness, but no more than you'd get in a yoghurt, and with the thick fruit mulch added in, that's what it tasted like more than a beer. I can't say I could identify any gooseberry in the flavour, and the other two give it merely a generic berry effect: I would have guessed raspberry. While I'm getting the digs in, 6% ABV is too strong for something so candified. I think I would have preferred this to be either a fully-attenuated, properly sour, mixed fermentation beer, or one loaded up with lactose and vanilla for a full-on and unapologetic tooth-rotting milkshake. This doesn't fit either genre and left me shrugging. Won't somebody please think of the beer reviewers.

That's all the Rascalling for now. The brewery doesn't make a whole lot of lager, and while it has a perfectly serviceable core-range one in Jailbreak, there's definitely room for getting creative in the cool-fermented space. It is nearly summer, after all.

Browns around

Everyone loves an American brown ale. In fact I don't think I've met anyone who has expressed the contrary opinion, yet new examples of the style are thin on the ground around here, and most everywhere else. Luckily, this most basic need is met by the one Rye River makes for Lidl on a permanent basis, though still it's a cause for celebration when a different one appears.

This one is from Dublin's own Outer Place brewing and is called Silent Orbit. It's a big lad, at a properly American 6.2% ABV. The head is an attractive and wholesome off-white over a crystal-clear dark garnet body. It could stand to be browner, was my first impression.

The aroma is gently floral, a summery bower of roses and honeysuckle, with no more than a hint of roasted grain. It takes a bit of warming for the latter to unfold in the flavour, where it's mostly gooey caramel and a little milk chocolate, with merely the faintest bite of dry toastiness at the end. The flowers continue to billow in the breeze, showing that there's definitely hops involved here, just not at punchy American levels. 

I liked the soft subtlety here: too many breweries don't bother with that, especially if they're putting "American" on the label. At the same time, the label claims it's late- and dry-hopped with Idaho 7, Ekuanot and Galaxy, and I think I'm within my rights to expect more fruity fun from all that, as well as a bigger malt-driven body, given the strength. I can't be too critical as it's a fine and well-made beer, deliciously drinkable in the style's own way. A few extra kilos of yee-haw wouldn't have gone amiss, however.

It seems Rathcoole has become a new centre of excellence for brown ale, as not long after, Outer Place's host brewery Lineman released a new one of their own. Big Beans is a coffee-enhanced version of their Big Calm, released in 2021.

That one was not short of coffee character, befitting the style. Adding actual coffee changes it significantly, reducing the roast and adding a cakey sweetness, presumably from the oil in the beans. It's not subtle, showing all the taste and aroma of actual cold-brew. Served cold on draught, the mouthfeel is a little thin for 6% ABV but it does round out as it warms. If the barman in The Black Sheep offers you a chilled glass, just say no. I should have known that.

While this is tasty, I couldn't help thinking it's better suited to coffee beer fans than the brown ale brigade. The addition has kind of replaced the brown ale character, to the point where the base beer could have been anything.

All my gripes today are minor ones. These are both very good beers, and appreciated especially for not being yet more IPA. I have no objection to even more brown ale coming out of Lineman's brewery, or anyone else's.

A glass, please

Galway Bay has been one of the more prolific breweries in 2024, which I very much welcome. Their third new beer of 2024 landed in mid-March, an imperial stout called Obsidian. The name references more than just the colour: it's on a Mexican theme, with chillis and chocolate, plus vanilla and cinnamon for the hot chocolate effect.

That sounds like a lot of novelty but it's worn lightly. At heart it's a dense 12% ABV stout with lots of old-fashioned bitterness, suggesting very high-cocoa dark chocolate rather than a sweetened gimmick. It's rare to encounter vanilla being so understated, detectable only once it's warmed up a bit. I was a little disappointed that the chilli wasn't more prominent: no spiciness on the tongue or afterburn in the belly, only a light sneezy dusting of paprika.

Still, it's not any way bland and has its own delicious character, totally separate from the add-ins. The bitter chocolate taste is enjoyable and the huge chewy texture even more so. That's plenty. This beer is plenty.

Full immersion

I was back in England for yet more family business a couple of weeks ago. This time the destination was the most genteel city of Bath. It's not exactly known for its quality beer offer, but I think I made out OK, and had no trouble finding decent pubs and decent beer. Indeed, I didn't put much effort into it, which is why you don't have to tell me about places I don't mention.

Stop one was not an Austenesque tearoom but an Indian restaurant: Bikanos, across the river in Widcombe. I had a pint of Cobra, meh, and then noticed they had a draught beer not on the menu, so presumably the illuminated keg font is new. Eazy is a Camden Town beer I'd never seen before. The name appears to be a squirmingly awkward pun on "hazy", because it's a hazy IPA. 5% ABV seems a little on the high side for what England regards as easy drinking. They've more or less got the flavour basics down: an inoffensive blend of ripe mandarin and a rub of garlic, the latter to complement your naan. Its mainstream credentials are shown in the barely-hazy copper colour, fairly typical of hazy IPA made by breweries with no enthusiasm for something they've decided to brew in vast quantities. Where it excels, however, is in the texture. It's beautifully soft and unfizzy, adding to the flavour's richness and suiting the food particularly well. I don't know if restaurants are its main stomping ground, but I can see why they would be. These days, Camden Town tends to make broadly reliable accessible beers, and here's another one. Where next?

My lodgings were at The Black Fox, a sparsely-furnished, broadly maritime-feeling pub at the edge of the old centre. They like to stick with local beers and I had a cask pint of It's Gonna Be May from Bath's own Electric Bear. This is another hazy one, though properly easy at just 3.8% ABV. The texture is nicely smooth, making for a very sinkable pint. There was something very strange going on with the hopping: a coconut and fruit sweetness that hits hard in the foretaste and lasts all the way through. Turns out it's done using Sabro with Azacca, which makes sense. It works. This is undemanding, like the beer before it, but has bags more character. I don't know how far from Bath Electric Bear gets, but I'll be watching out for them. Modern twists on traditional British brewing don't always work, but on this evidence they seem to know what they're doing.

Not far up the street from here is Bath Brew House, which I visited last time I was in town, almost a decade ago. It hasn't changed much: still a bit of a drinking barn with a roomy beer garden out back. But their heart's in the right place as regards the beer they brew.

Seeking refreshment, I started on Valkyrie, their take on Kölsch, kegged. I wasn't expecting much from this but was wowed, right out of the traps. It's mostly clear and a slightly dark shade of golden, the recipe leaning heavily into Vienna malt, I'm told. While it's perfectly clean (and not all brewpub lagers are) it's not crisp, wearing instead a subtle yet delicious cookie-like sweetness. This matches an almost creamy low-carbonation texture. I found it to be a great session starter, but equally there's enough to keep one interested here for another pint or two straight after. Just watch out for that 5% ABV, English lightweights.

After that, I thought I would try my luck with another kegged one: Avena, BBH's stout. This is 6.2% ABV so I opted for a half, and was glad I did. In the glass it's a dirty brown colour, and without nitrogen the head looks quite forlorn. The badge doesn't advertise it as a milk stout, but it appears to be one: intensely sweet with the added tang of salt one gets from milk chocolate, building to an unpleasantly sweaty tang by the end of just the half pint. In its favour, it's not heavy so it doesn't get cloying, but it was still tough drinking for me. A little drying out with some balancing roast would have helped it a lot.

Over to the cask taps, then. Senator is a table beer, which is not something I've seen on cask before, I think. At 3.2% ABV it's not massively different from several mainstream bitters, I suppose. It's a hazy pale yellow and does have an excellently full body, given that very modest strength. Lemon cookies open the flavour, building in bitterness as it goes, and properly sharp in a stimulating, mouth-watering, way by the end. I got both crispness and chewiness from it, making it an excellent all-rounder: full-flavoured and not at all compromised.

Last time I hadn't noticed just how much of a rugby town Bath was, but it very much is. Bath Brew House made a special bitter for the 2024 Six Nations. They called it Victory. LOL. It's 4.3% ABV and amber-coloured. Brown bitter, then? Technically yes, but they've made a great job of it, packing in fresh and leafy green English hops, set on a superbly refreshing dry and tannic base. A tiny bit of peppery spice finishes it with a flourish. It's another very moreish beer, on the plain and unchallenging side, but utterly delicious in that way good bitter does so well.

A big ol' IPA to finish the session here: Hercules, labouring away at 6% ABV. This one doesn't seem to be in the English style, having big and bitter citrus notes up front, leading to harder resin and pine later on. It's a west-coast Hercules then. The zest keeps it drinkable and the malt side is restrained, not bothering with balance, and not really needing to. There's a certain spiciness which I would say is more English, but otherwise it's American all the way, and beautifully done. Here we have yet another fantastic drinking beer, though one with a hint of danger too.

Stout aside, I could have very happily started from the top once more for another round of everything, but it was time to move on.

That brought us to another pub we'd been in before, Bath's famous The Raven. I chose a porter from the wickets, named Captain Pigwash (yum yum), brewed by Potbelly in Northamptonshire. It's a bit of a sticky affair: a full 5% ABV with loads of roast plus a smoky, rather phenolic, twang. At times it felt like drinking a barbecue marinade more than a beer. I got through my pint in due course, but it's not one you can rush. I think I prefer my cask porters to be more easy-going than this, not that I'm in any position to be fussy about such things.

And in a reverse of the norm, herself went with an IPA of 5.1% ABV, called Falcon Punch, supplied by Essex's Brentwood Brewing. The name is from its use of the Falconer's Flight hop blend, which I haven't seen mentioned in a while, plus Mosaic and Citra. Mosaic has won that particular fight and the beer isn't punchy at all. Instead it's soft and peachy, with dessertish meringue pie overtones. Perhaps the Citra builds into more of a bitterness on drinking more than the taster I had. As a hop-forward cask ale it still did an excellent job. Brentwood has had a couple of beers in the Irish branches of Wetherspoon over the years, but this is the first of theirs that impressed me in any way.

From the outside, I liked the look of Sam Weller's pub, nestled in among the winding streets of central Bath, and inside it's nice too, plush and comfortable with boutique hotel lounge vibes. The beer selection was modest, and I picked one from Black Sheep, perhaps one of the Yorkshire brewer's attempts at cool craft beer which landed them insolvent. It was a 4% ABV session IPA called Respire. It's far from all-American in character, however, the zingy citrus sitting next to a very northern waxy bitterness of the sort I associate with Timothy Taylor Landlord or Marble's Pint. It works well, in a best-of-both-worlds kind of way. If you want to treat it as a modern, hopped up, US-influenced pale ale, you can do so quite validly, but it's equally a clean and clear Yorkshire bitter with plenty of characterful punch.

Finally, The Star. This pub was only on my radar because I wanted to check in again with cask Bass, especially with the looming danger of Carlsberg-Marston's getting rid of it. The Star specialises in jugs of Bass served on gravity, and I had a pint, and it was perfectly pleasant, though I don't really get what all the fuss is about with this beer, other than its history. The pub itself is as traditional as can be: a series of tiny rooms, one with a tiny bar counter, tiny stillage and very large jar of pickled eggs. It's all kinds of charming, and on a sunny Saturday when downtown Bath was thronged, is just far enough out to avoid any undesirable passing trade. What would such types know of cask Bass?

It also seems to be connected to Abbey Ales of Bath, and serves their flagship, Bath Bellringer. This is a golden-coloured bitter, shading to amber, and 4.2% ABV. For all that it's lauded throughout the premises, it's a rather plain affair, offering little more than a simple squeeze of lemon essence -- not quite intense enough to be zest -- plus some waxiness and pale grains which lend it an air of pilsner, to my mind. I was unimpressed, and any patrons looking for a simple and decent bitter would be better served with the Bass. Up your game, Abbey.

Before leaving, I had another British take on American IPA, this time from Asahi Fuller's Meantime Dark Star, and called Revelation. It's another goldy-amber one, and a full 5.7% ABV. It needs that to balance out the very heavy and acidic hop resins, sharply bitter at first, then tailing off into a long citric finish. It's a bit of an assault to begin with, but I got used to it quickly, and was fully enjoying the beer by the second mouthful. For all the hefty punch, there's a certain amount of balance on display as well, those hops somewhat calmed by a chewy, golden syrup malt sweetness. It takes skill to make something that's this big but not difficult to drink at the same time. A revelation, you might say, if you wanted to end your blog post on a trite note.

Ahead of this trip I'm not sure I would have considered Bath as a weekend destination by itself, having been quite satisfied with it as a daytrip when based in Bristol. There's lots to explore beyond the famous sights, however. I could have punched in another day or two, having barely scratched the surface of what ciders it has to offer, for example. That's for next time.

Party in my mouth

Today marks nineteen years since this blog got underway, and my al fresco celebration beer is the new special edition from Rye River: Piñata Party. It's a daring recipe, created in collaboration with Cervecería Morenos in México City, and is a sour ale with pineapple, lime, chilli and smoke. How does that play out?

It looks innocent enough, a light and hazy shade of yellow, suggesting a beer built for summer. The relatively modest 5% ABV suggests so too. The intense sweetness of tinned pineapple is the only thing I get from the aroma, so everything so far points to this being nothing fancier than pineapple juice. It's light-bodied, fizzy and refreshing, so starts off well on the first sip. But then...

I have no objection to smoked pineapple. The seasoned, roasted fruit that comes at the end of a rodizio session is often welcome, though I've usually eaten too much by this stage. Anyway, it's a nice touch. This seems to have been aiming for that in beer form but misses the mark. The smoke is its own thing, right at the front of the flavour, and tastes acrid and fishy. It's a brief blip, however, and the fresh and juicy pineapple lands in immediately behind it, then the base beer: a light and zippy sour ale without pretensions. Finally, the finish adds a pleasant squirt of lime zest to give it more of a cocktail vibe. There's not much chilli, but still it would all have worked beautifully were it not for the ill-advised smoke component.

Smoke as a seasoning is difficult thing to pull off, especially in a pale beer. The rubbery burnt factor on show here is all too common, and I admire Rye River's optimism in thinking it wouldn't affect them. This beer isn't a complete disaster, and I appreciate a fruited sour ale that's actually sour for once. If you're less sensitive to the chlorophenols than I am, you might get on fine with it.

A wine time

There seems to have been a bit of a slowdown in new release beer from Otterbank, though there have been welcome rebrews of old favourites like Gimp Mask and Just the One. The most recent set included just the two which were brand new to me.

Wild Muff owes its puerile name to the yeast, harvested from a forest near the brewery. Based on Chevalier barley, it was fermented out in Sauvignon Blanc casks, left for 27 months to let the yeast ply its trade. The result is a sparkling golden amber beer of 5.8% ABV, looking like something from a Dutch renaissance painting. 

The white wine is apparent from the aroma, mellow and melony, with just a naughty nip of tartness alongside. The texture is light and brisk, and the flavour reminds me of Flanders red in particular: balsamic resins, macerated cherries and a charming matured warmth. At the same time it's definitely a pale beer, with a crispness not dissimilar to geuze.

If this was an experiment, it's one well worth repeating. The result is very pleasant drinking and shows all the hallmarks of good Belgian-style sour ale with none of the shortcuts. I suppose that taking over two years to produce means it would really want to.

To follow, Oíche Mhaith is a Burgundy barrel aged mixed fermentation vatted porter (12% ABV) which, at time of writing this introductory sentence, I have not yet tasted. It looks nice -- black with cola-red edging -- and smells a little of vermouth and a lot of balsamic vinegar.

The flavour is rather mellower, I'm happy to say. I assume the vats are made of oak because there's a lot of smooth, assured and matured, vanilla on display here. Spanish wine comes to mind: the correct level of Rioja richness; the ripe-to-bursting grape juice effect meeting more astringent raisin and sparks of black pepper and old leather.

This is pretty much exactly what anyone would want agéd, oakéd porter to be: bold, distinctive, yet worringly drinkable. If you didn't like it, tell me why and I'll explain why you're wrong.

It's a delightful luxury to have so much wine-barrel-aged beer coming out of Irish breweries who know how to do it well (see also Wednesday's post). Long may this niche remain viable.

Wild for the Chardonnay

The quarterly Wicklow Wolf Locavore series has really hit its stride in recent years, with some truly creative and high-end beers. It may be a bit of a gimmick -- all ingredients are acquired locally, mostly on the brewery's own land -- but the commitment to quality comes as standard. That said, the spring release last year was nothing more adventurous than a weissbier, so I was pleased that Locavore Spring 2024 has them back playing with barrels and Brettanomyces again.

To be precise, it's a "Barrel aged farmhouse ale with Brettanomyces", presumably starting life as some class of saison before getting the wild yeast treatment and 16 months in Chardonnay casks. The result is 7.2% ABV and a bright, though murky, golden colour. The best of these have a flavour profile in common with lambic, but this is nothing so wild and sour. The Brett is the more cuddly sort, giving the aroma and flavour big soothing notes of ripe apricot and tinned lychee. There's a certain amount of peppery spice, but not as much as I would like. As it warms, the white wine character emerges, complementing the stonefruit elements, but adding a little alcohol poke, which shouldn't be unexpected, given the strength.

Although it's no masterpiece of mixed-fermentation complexity, it's very nice stuff. I see it working well as an aperitif, in place of white port or cocktails based on dry vermouth. By the end of the glass I had become aware that lazy summer evenings aren't too far away. Get a few of these in for that, and thank me later.

Hops wanted

Some big IPAs from Hopfully today, beginning with ThreeLeaves, their new St Patrick's Day special. This is a cold IPA of 6.3% ABV and brewed in collaboration with Milan's Birrificio WAR. It's a near-perfect clear golden colour and smells sharp and spicy, of pine resin and raw red onion. I'm happy to say that, for once with a cold IPA, the onion does not come through to the flavour. Instead it's all very west-coast, offering lemon zest, grapefruit rind, and then a harder pine resin in the finish. The clean, presumably lagered, base gives the hops a wonderfully clear platform to work their magic from: Chinook, Mosaic, Nectaron and Hallertau Mittelfrüh, for a fun mix of American and Germanic characteristics. There's no heat from the alcohol, but the gravity gives it a lovely smooth texture, making it delightfully quaffable, despite the welly. Maybe the next one will slow me down a bit.

This is Watchdog, a double New England-style IPA. It's 7.5% ABV and very hazy -- densely yellow with a fine foam on top. The hops are a simple fruity combination of Azacca and Amarillo, and that gives it an aroma of orange-flavoured chew sweets. The flavour isn't anything so sweet, and it's almost a little... funky. Maybe the bitterness of the previous beer was still hanging around, but I didn't get any of the anticipated candy from the flavour. Instead, it's a rather hard and waxy taste, with a savoury note of fried cabbage and roasted meat. There's a stern resinous side, and a dry, plasterboard rasp. Only at the very end is there any kind of sweetness: a concentrated orange cordial effect. There's not enough character here overall, and what's there isn't especially enjoyable. Hopfully is usually much better at this sort of thing.

A chance to turn things around is Moodlift, double IPA again, with the strength boosted to 8% ABV. It's explicitly in the west coast style, and while it's the right shade of amber, is a bit hazy as well, which spoils the effect a little. Again, I think they've low-balled the hops, because there's neither zest nor zing in the aroma and flavour. Talus, Chinook and Centennial should have more of a presence than is in evidence here. It smells only slightly of orange oil and tastes of pith and coconut, a little like there's Sorachi Ace in here, but nothing so strong or distinct. Although the body is heavy and chewy, it doesn't host a big malt or hop taste, and is sadly quite plain, all told.

I like a pisco sour cocktail, and I like a sour IPA, so Hopfully looked to be catering very much to my tastes with a sour IPA called Pisco Sour. They've got the visuals spot on: an opaque yellow/orange topped with a very fine white foam. You have to supply your own Angostura bitters, however. The aroma is surprisingly savoury: smoky, like charred embers or lapsang souchong tea. On tasting, that transforms into a very mild tartness; a bite of black lime rind or the aforementioned bitters. Behind it, there's a softer fruit side, more typical of hazy IPA, suggesting peaches and apricot. According to the can it's all done fairly simply, with a mix of Citra and Nelson Sauvin hops plus lime juice. That made me realise that the smoky thing is a more concentrated version of the diesel or kerosene I often get from Nelson, and it's unusual to find Citra taking any kind of a back seat. I would have liked more of its particular brand of lime sharpness, and indeed more sourness. Instead, this is a big softy, with all the fluffy texture which comes with 7.8% ABV but absolutely none of the heat. While fun and different, for sure, I question whether it should be badged as an IPA at all.

A late add at a more modest strength is Patience, a hazy IPA of 5.5% ABV. This is hopped with Chinook, Azacca, Comet and Citra so definitely shouldn't be lacking in hop character. Unfortunately, it is. The aroma is again quite bland with vanilla custard and little more than a distant squeeze of citrus. The flavour, too, is reticent, offering up minimal amounts of zest on an unforgivably thin base. The lack of hop taste leaves room for an unpleasant gritty and savoury side from the haze to creep in and muddy things up. If it were 4% ABV or less it might be understandable, even forgivable, but I know it's possible to give a beer of this strength a much more assertive and enjoyable hop side.

What happened here? The top one was glorious and then it all fell apart after that. I'll allow Hopfully an off day or two, but I hope they won't be making a habit of this.