Brew, bruv?

While we wait for the grand opening of O Brother's new taproom outside Greystones, they still pop the occasional can out, and not just for Aldi. Latest in the independent trade is Bookends, an amber ale with coffee. Roasted Brown is the roastery which provided the added ingredient, a Costa Rican variety called El Diamante, for those who care. I'm more interested in the beer beneath, which is 5.5% ABV and a clear rose-gold colour with plenty of head.

My problem with coffee-flavoured ales is that they tend to taste stale, often with an unpleasant sweaty stank. This at least smells fresh, with a blast of very real cold-brew in the aroma, though not much beer. The coffee dominates the foretaste too, giving it an unusual sort of sweetness, more like coffee cake or affogato than a cup of serious joe. There's fruit, but no roast in that, and a classy runny dark chocolate effect. Ganache? Something like that. This complements the caramelised malt of the base beer very nicely. The beer is playing second fiddle to the coffee, but the tune is harmonious and enjoyable. I suspect that the amber ale wouldn't have been very exciting by itself, offering only that light caramel and a slightly sharp mineral bitterness: seeming weaker than it actually is. The coffee gives it a whole colourful personality, while not masking the fundamentals.

This is very nicely done, and is streets away from the unpleasant funky concoction I feared it would be. They knew what they were doing when they picked this variety, and the amount of it. I'm not a coffee lover, but I think that cohort might find this an especially interesting beer.

Slow starter

Things seem to have been a bit quiet as regards DOT output, at least in the places where I buy my beer. Of the cans, Note pale ale is among the most recent, and that came out in November. 4% ABV with Citra and Galaxy hops seems like a pretty safe bet. It's a dark gold in the glass, with a little haze but isn't hazy hazy. The aromatics are restrained, just a little fruity candy, and the flavour goes that way too: Starburst and Skittles, without being excessively sweet or any way chemically artificial. It's nice, and fans of Citra looking for its grown-up moves may be disappointed. I liked in particular how full bodied it is, with a rounded mouthfeel and enough substance to carry the hops right through from foretaste to a clean finish. I could say it's inoffensive, but who wants to be offended by a light pale ale? This is good, clean, sessionable fun. It didn't take me long going through it, but I very much enjoyed doing so.

Disgruntled by how much DOT beer gets sold in the Netherlands without passing my way, when I live only a few miles from the blendery, I picked up a bottle of Compa when I saw it on sale in Haarlem last winter. I was further miffed a week or two later to find it on sale in Dublin. "Imperial pale ale" is what they've decided to call it, against all international norms and conventions. It's 9.5% ABV and was aged in Irish whiskey casks which graduated from holding Marsala wine. Murky and orange in colour, it smells of whiskey cocktails, like a sticky fruit liqueur has been allowed to disrupt an innocent spirit. The flavour continues that theme of oaked distillate plus a twist of citrus peel. There's a slight dry sweatiness and a deeply infused green herbal bitterness. This is a serious beer, and while the brewery's chosen style designation makes no sense, the beer doesn't fit into any established style either. You could deem it a 19th-century vatted pale mild if you wanted. While not easy drinking, it is fun, and although it doesn't quite bring the rich, luxurious fine-whiskey effect, there's an enjoyable warmth. A stout given the same treatment would have been better, but it's not my place to second guess DOT's creative impulses.

Lush is another one that first landed on the continent, late in 2024, and only arrived in my line of sight in Dublin last month. This is a double IPA of the New England persuasion, 8% ABV and hopped with Mosaic and Simcoe, so very much a classic take on the style. It's darker than is entirely fashionable, being an amberish shade, and also with a proper head: amateur hour! There's no shortage of juice in the aroma; not ersatz and sweet but sharp and pithy, like actual orange juice. I hoped that would translate to the flavour, but here the alcohol takes over and the first impression is a burn: slightly chemical, with a hint of marker pen solvent. There's a certain amount of fruit going on as well, but also some savoury onion relish and a plasticky twang. Maybe it needed to be fresher but it can't have been that old. Is the colour and lack of zing an oxidation thing? It's not cardboardy but I don't think it's quite right either.

None of this is DOT's best work. But maybe they have something special in store for the next round of releases. Chances are you'll find out about it here if they do.

What've you got?

The off licence shelves were festooned with a plethora of gaudily-hued Tiny Rebel cans. This Welsh brewery hasn't exactly been a favourite of mine over the years, and has received a degree of opprobrium in the past regarding its treatment of workers, so just a few small ones then, to see how their beer is these days.

I start with a novelty stout called Buttery Biscuit Bass, with its Saul Bass-inspired design. The claimed novelty is that it's cheesecake-flavoured, though the can lists only normal beer ingredients plus lactose. It looks a bit thin for that: a translucent dark brown without much of a head. It smells more like a brown ale than a stout too, brimming with sweet caramel and coffee, as well as sweeter-still condensed milk and honeycomb candy. It's only 5.4% ABV and I think that works in its favour -- it would be very easy for something like this to be cloyingly thick, but while there's plenty of body, it doesn't go to extremes, allowing the medium carbonation to do some much-needed cleansing. There are zero surprises in the flavour, but it doesn't taste anything like a cheesecake. The coffee from the aroma is central, redeeming it somewhat as a stout, and that honeycomb stickiness makes up the numbers. And that's your lot. While not horrifically sugary, it isn't far off either. The first few sips were a bit of fun but there's not enough going on to keep it interesting, even for a mere 33cl.

Hoping for a sharp contrast, I opened Dude Love next, designated a West Coast IPA, though only 5.5% ABV. It has been made with modern sensibilities by the looks of things, being pale yellow and quite hazy. We're back on style with the aroma which is fabulously zesty: lemon and grapefruit, what could be more West Coast? That's mostly what the flavour is about, with citrus a-go-go and not a whole lot else. It's not one of the caramellish amber-coloured beers in this style, and all the better for it. The fly in the ointment is that haze. This would be potentially a stunner if it were crystalline-clean, pin bright and needle sharp (with maybe a smidge of dank), but the visible fuzz manifests in both the texture and taste. Dude Love is dirty, and I'm not hugely into it. This comes across a bit like the well-intentioned output of a beginner's shed-sized brewery, not the premium product of their country's beer ambassadors.

There's no escaping the murk with our finisher: Butty, an 8% ABV double IPA which is densely hazed, with no sign of caramelised malt at all, just the clouded-up pale yellow sort. Still, it starts out like the best examples of this style, with a softly spoken aroma of stonefruit and fruit-salad citrus. The flavour sustains this understated classiness, giving lime rind, grapefruit flesh and succulent peach in a way that's balanced and co-ordinated; neither the tropical fruit nor citrus bite taking control. Balance in a murky 8%-er is something of a holy grail, where I'm concerned. There's a slightly unpleasant and amateurish grit in the finish which spoils an otherwise flawless performance, and a boozy waft that's unsubtle, but not unpleasant. I was three beers in by the time of drinking it and rather enjoyed the buzz it brought. Tiny Rebel may be an elder statesperson of craft beer at this stage, but this tasted like the state of the hazy art done well.

For the second time recently, I feel inclined to give props to a brewery for delivering what they said they would. All was mostly to style, well made and, while silly in places, not taken to unpleasant extremes. It's not for me to say Tiny Rebel has grown up, but these have me thinking I'll check in with them again sooner rather than later.

More of that

I got my hands on the first Sierra Nevadas of the year last month. They're two IPAs, so very much what the brewery is good at, if somewhat disappointingly unoriginal. We already have several IPAs made in this country.

The first out is called Hop Tropical, and I was on alert straight away, remembering my rule that beers described as "tropical" almost never taste it. Sierra Nevada wouldn't get that wrong, though, would they? Yes and no. It's not powerfully tropical, but there is a little mango and pineapple sweetness, especially in the finish and aftertaste. Before that, there's a classic citric bite, of satsuma and lime, with a little oily resin bitterness as well. As such it's well-balanced and very tasty. And it's clean too, showing only the very slightest haze in the pale yellow body, contributing to the crisp, precise taste. 6.5% ABV is fairly modest, and no alcohol heat disturbs the lovely hopping. There's also great head retention with pretty lacing on the glass. This is a class act, and by no means a novelty beer or some sort of youth-oriented "juice bomb". While not exactly an original creation, the quality is unassailable and the enjoyment immense.

Meanwhile, they're definitely running out of names for entries in the never-ending Little Things series. What's purportedly radical about Rad Little Thing is its combination of "East Coast haze" with "West Coast flavor" to create a "West Coast hazy IPA" (albeit brewed in North Carolina). Call me a jaded old hack, but I wasn't wowed, nor especially intrigued. It's not even all that hazy, though somewhat more so than the beer above. Not much happens in the aroma, and the flavour takes a while to get going. The first thing I noticed is the sharp bitterness, raw and piney, so it is doing the West Coast thing. There isn't really the flavour to back this up: where it should by rights be roaring with grapefruit, there's only quite a light pithy quality. The murk brings an unwelcome savoury dregginess, and there's significant heat in the finish, although it's only 7% ABV. Hazy Little Thing's key feature was its bright fruity character; replacing that with a hard bitterness doesn't really make for a good beer. Few members of this series are worth their salt, and here's another for the nope pile.

I do like that Sierra Nevada is still pushing out brand new beer, and I'm happy to feature them on this blog when they come my way. I blame the beer market for the fact that, these days, everything is an IPA because nothing else sells. If any of you IPA-only drinkers are reading this: knock it off, yeah?

Lunar ticks

I have a whole new brewery for you today: Moon Lark, from Poręba in southern Poland. I have no idea by what means their cans ended up in Dublin shops, but witaj! regardless.

IPA features heavily, so I guess somebody reckoned we didn't have enough of those already. The first is a wheat one, called Byway. It's billed as hazy, and indeed it is, all pale and sunny. The aroma is sunny too, both sweet and citrus like lemon curd or drizzle cake. In the flavour, that transforms into zest, with a pinch of lemony sharpness and lots of refreshing zingy lemonade. It's lemons all the way down, it seems. As a wheat beer it also has a happy softness which does help smooth out the hops' sharper edges. After all the initial citric fireworks, the finish offers a more serious oily resin, adding a brush of pine needles. Overall it's a very jolly affair, quite light at 5.8% ABV, and tasting as joyful as it looks. The balance between punchy hop complexity and accessibility is exquisite.

Someone at the brewery likes West Coast IPA, because there are two in this set. Cliff is the lighter one, at 6.7% ABV. There's a very slight haze going on in the golden body, but it still manages to look the part. A sharp pine-and-lime aroma starts us off appropriately, and the flavour doesn't stray too far from that. Citra is at work here, of course, along with Mosaic adding a little melon and tropicals to the middle. There's allegedly Sabro as well but I couldn't find any of its coconutty goodness, but it might be adding a touch of pith to the citrus. This is crisp, clean and made with precision. Where it falls down a bit is the malt base, which is minimalist. I guess it's meant to give the hops a clear run, but they need more of a foundation than they get here. As a result, it's not very boldly flavoured, and could do with a bit more wallop, and a finish with more legs than the sudden stop we get here. It's passable, but is presented in 2D rather than full Technicolor.

Let's see if we do any better with Prime, a bit stronger at 7.4% ABV and hopped with Citra, El Dorado and Columbus, which sees like a more interesting combination. It's another pale golden one, and again only very slightly murked. It has the same problem as the previous beer: a blandness, where the hops don't really kick into gear properly. What's there is also less assertive than the previous, with crunchy, savoury sesame seed or onion, a little dank resin, and that's it: another quick finish due to a lack of malt backbone. The Citra here really doesn't present itself as much as in the second, and while it does still taste American, it's not a good example of the West Coast profile. Crisp comes with a crunch here, and it just isn't as enjoyable as its punchy and citric sibling. While technically proficient, both of these lack character and charm.

The last beer is the lightest of the set, at 5.2% ABV. I'm glad they specified that Wharf is a brown porter, because it's definitely not black, more a russet shade, and looking quite soupy in the glass. The aroma is what I expected, showing plenty of coffee, chocolate and caramel, emphasising the roast over the sweet side, which is good. The carbonation is very low, which might upset some, but I liked the gentle cask-like sparkle it has instead. It's very obvious from the flavour that it's been built around brown malt in quantity, giving it a warm richness, packing in the same coffee and chocolate complexity as the aroma. The body is fairly light, ensuring drinkability, although the murk gives it a slightly gritty feel that it would be better off without. But there's nothing wrong with this that outweighs its brown malt joy. It serves as a delicious but poignant reminder that this malt is criminally underused.

That was an interesting run-through, and at the end of it I don't know whether Moon Lark gets filed as a hidden gem or not worth your while. I will buy more of theirs in due course, though may pause over the IPAs.