Doing it properly

I guess it's because the annual Spring Beer Festival at JD Wetherspoon falls close to International Women's Day that they've used it in the past to highlight female brewers. This year I didn't see any such publicity, and it's not mentioned in the festival programme, but all 30 festival beers have a woman named as its lead brewer. No virtue-signalling, just quiet achievement.

Also with an achievement mindset was The Silver Penny, the Wetherspoon on Dublin's Abbey Street. They kept the cask specials turning over, meaning that for this festival I didn't go anywhere else. That was enough to nab me just over half of the line-up over the course of a week.

On day one, things began with two of the range on tap. My first pick was Batemans Loopy Loo, a 4.4% ABV amber ale described on the clip as "defiantly fruity". The hell does that mean? I think I got what they're alluding to on tasting. It starts harshly bitter --- pith, shading to laundry detergent -- and then in the finish there's a veritable explosion of fruit, slinging tinned peach, sliced apple, lychee and bubblegum. Its dual nature with sequential bitter then sweet is very unusual and I wasn't sure what to make of it. The extremes are such that it qualifies under both harsh and sickly. So while the concept is interesting and fun, the execution would be better if it were toned down all round.

Down the bar, there was Lady in Red, from Saltaire, purporting to be an American style red IPA (what's the archetype?) but at an unAmerican 4.8% ABV. Surprisingly for JDW it was a bit murky in the glass, a blurry mahogany, and has a certain amount of grittiness on foot of that. The rest is lovely, though. I doubt I'd call it an American IPA as the bitterness is very low, but instead it has a beautiful soft and sweet summer and tropical fruit, giving me strawberry, mango and melon, balanced with a twist of savoury black pepper or incense. A rub of dank resin emerges as it warms, redeeming its American credentials somewhat. Overall, this is complex, subtle and classy: just what one comes to cask ale for, but don't always get.

Day two, and Redemption's Gulpa joined the line-up. It's billed as a "deep" golden ale, but struck me as rather bubbly and superficial, in the nicest possible way. A bit like the Batemans one, it's very fruit forward, demonstrating lots of tinned peach, mandarin segments, cantaloupe and white grape, mixed together in a fruit salad mélange. Cleverly, however, it's not allowed to turn overly sweet because a hard and assertive bitterness swings into action half way through, giving the finish a seriously invigorating bite. The fruit salad effect is enhanced by a lip-smacking full and creamy body, and you'd never know it was only 4% ABV. I was very impressed by this one, and especially considering it's all done with English hops -- Bramling Cross, First Gold and Cascade. This is the beer that the other fruity pale ales were trying to be but couldn't quite manage.

A couple of days later and Sambrooks Kiwiana had arrived: the London brewer's take on a New Zealand hopped pale ale. It's a pretty pale golden colour and doesn't have much of an aroma but tastes bright and tropical, of Starburst candy and lemon spongecake: very much on the dessert end of fruity, rather than actual fruit itself.  The body is smooth and lightly sparkled, making for very easy drinking, aided by a modest 4.5% ABV and no real finish. A little bitter bite on the end might have been nice, and entirely possible with the Rakau and Wakatua (fka Hallertau Aroma) hops, but they've constructed it differently, and I respect that. What you get is a gorgeous, easy-going session beer, with a colourful flavour which is fruit-forward without laying on the sweetness too thickly. It's hard to argue with that.

That was enough fruity pale ales for a while, and fortunately the selection had now taken a dark turn. Next to the Sambrook's was Brains Boudicca, a porter. I wasn't expecting much from this, but wow-ee: it's a beaut. They describe it as "ruby" although it looked plenty black to me. It's 5% ABV but tastes considerably more, with a gut-sticking warmth that speaks of dark liqueurs and decadent pastries. The flavour is centred on high-class chocolate embedded in soft and rich cake or pudding. For balance, there's a playfully sharp liquorice bitterness and hints of burnt caramel and dark roast coffee, before a late addition of black cherry and raisin. It's one of those beers which unfolds gradually on the palate, each sip revealing a new aspect, and all of them delicious. I only had a half, and I think that was enough. The complexity could have become overwhelming if I'd had more of it. This is very far from a simple and straightforward drinking porter; it's a sipper, and an excellent one. The programme said it's new, and I sincerely hope that Brains makes more of it.

All of that was what I had been expecting from the first of this season's collaborations: Chocolate Porter, designed by Birra Perugia and brewed at Batemans. Roasted cocoa beans is how the chocolate has been applied, the brochure helpfully tells us. It's another black one, with a lasting tan-coloured head. Although it's the same strength as the previous one, it's light bodied. Turns out, this is the easy-drinker that I thought the Brains one would be. It's very smooth, with no sharp edges and little by way of distinguishing features. The most prominent note is coffee: warm, freshly ground beans, which I'm guessing is actually the chocolate at work. That's subtle, but does add an enjoyable high note to what's otherwise quite a serious and roasty dry porter. This is solid, decent fare. As is usual with these collaborations, it speaks more of the traditionally English Lincolnshire brewery it came from, rather than any showy Italian panache.

Another international collaboration was on shortly afterwards: Wallaby, by Penny Red of South Australia, brewed at Oakham. It's an all-Galaxy pale ale, and a little murky with it, pale gold under the fuzz. The aroma is fresh and peachy while the foretaste has a now very familiar fruity candy character. There is at least a substantial bitterness to go along with this, and that arrives early. Combined with the peach and apricot of the foretaste it creates a slightly unpleasant perfume effect which takes a bit of getting used to. I enjoyed the assertiveness of it, and that the brewery has given us something of interest beyond the wow-fruity factor that lots of other brewers seem to be doing. Fashion is over-rated, especially in beer.

Beside it they had the first cask beer I've seen in these parts from Mad Squirrel, one of the regular suppliers of craft keg to Wetherspoon. Beerhart is also golden but we're back to clarity as a virtue. They've paired new American hop Krush with old-school Summit, and I don't think it works. A concentrated floral aroma leads on to a weird mix of too-familiar tropical candy and ash-dry grain husk. The result is at once acrid and cloying, which is quite a technical achievement but quite unpleasant to drink. I recall that Summit, when it was on-trend, had a reputation for bringing a cooked onion quality, and I think that's at work here, clashing with Krush's tropical stylings. By the end of my half pint I was finding that it nearly works, but the insane mélange of raw white onion, spicy jasmine and essence of bathroom lavender is just too weird. Experiment complete: don't try this again, anyone.

A festival emphasising female UK brewers would have to include Brewsters Brewery, of course. Their offering is Persephone, a golden ale. Though a hefty 5% ABV, it's a subtle one, showing notes of pale fruit: all pear, lychee and honeydew melon. It's delightfully bucolic, an elderflower overtone perfectly matched to the first sunny days of spring on which it was served. While there's no particular malt element to the taste, there's a nicely full body which helps the hops do their thing. They're nothing more exotic than Cascade, Bramling Cross and First Gold, but it's incredible how they've been combined to create a flavour as bright and modern as any number of spendy canned pale ales which use proprietary hop extract products. I had been wondering if the name was a reference to pomegranates, and while it doesn't include them, it does show that sort of succulent exoticism. Phwoar.

The pumpclip for Adnams Blackshore stout had gone up at this stage, and on my next visit it was actually pouring. I expected big things but, while this is a very decent beer, it's not really anything special. A light 4.2% ABV, it's a very light ruby colour, not properly black. The flavour begins with some gentle dark chocolate, becoming roastier as it goes along, finishing on quite a playful pinch of burnt tar. It's classic stuff, with neither bells nor whistles, only a faint brush of dark fruit. Top marks for balance and drinkability, but I think there was room to make something a little more interesting.

Another stout was available for comparison: Blossom by Black Sheep, one made with added cherry. The fruit is very obvious from the aroma, which is sweet and unctuous, smelling like sticky cherry jam, raisins and fig paste. 6% ABV gives it considerable heft, the treacly texture well matched with a flavour of chocolate syrup and burnt caramel. There's a sizeable coffee component too, suggesting some strong variety, roasted darkly. This is high quality stuff, almost ruined by the tacked-on cherry syrup which does its best to distract from the good points but, thankfully, is easily ignored. Festival beers don't go much stronger than this these days, and it was nice to find one that filled the big-beer slot so effectively.

That wasn't the only cherry beer: Greene King also added cherries, to a bitter, to create something called Cherry Nice. This opens with a kerr-azy candy aroma, all syrupy and artificial, more perfume than fruit. The flavour after it is pretty similar, but less intense, having been well watered down. Beyond that, there's a very dull, flavourless, ordinary bitter. Even at just 4% ABV I would have expected more character. I have to wonder who this kind of simple adulteration of boring beer is meant to impress.

Two red ones followed next, starting on Queen of Hearts by the ever-reliable regional St Austell. The official description says toffee and raisin, and that had me worried I was in for a sticky one. Thankfully, it's not. This is quite a dark garnet shade and has a cheeky bitterness in its aroma, suggesting herbal liquorice. The flavour is indeed sweet, but 4.3% ABV holds that in check, and the caramel is characterful but brief. Toffee and raisin? Yes, and even a hint of richer port or Madeira, but it remains a light beer: warming but drinkable too. The liquorice reappears briefly in the finish. Very nicely done, and the sort of red ale I could get fully on board with.

Similarly-reliable Harviestoun was next, with a cask lager called Vienna. This one is lighter still at 4.1% ABV and chestnut red. Scottish brewers have significant experience with cask lager and I'm not at all sure they work well. My first issue with this one was a harsh vegetal note which I immediately tagged as German hopping: Magnum and Tettnang dominating the Cascade and Challenger in the recipe. The malt base behind it is clean enough to be almost invisible: it certainly doesn't taste dark, with no roast or caramelisation until it has warmed right up. And then there's the flatness. It's softly conditioned in the way that perfectly suits cask ale, but in one that's constructed as a lager, it doesn't work so well. I'm not completely sure I would have enjoyed this on keg either, because of those hops. The malt richness of Vienna lager is unforgivably absent.

From red to amber for the final two, beginning on Grand Union by Hook Norton. This is 4.3% ABV and badged as a pale ale. Only at this festival is haziness a noteworthy feature, but this does show a very faint misting. The hop acidity I dinged the Vienna for reappears here in the aroma: sharp and vegetal, even though the hops are an involved mix of British and American only. This evolves on tasting into a thick and funky resin effect, one that's savoury more than bitter, tasting like a gooey onion marmalade with burnt plastic and boiled cabbage topnotes. Did that suit my palate? I'm sorry to say that it did not. A half of this was hard work. It lacks cleanness and nuance and, frankly, mercy and kindness. Should you find yourself with Admiral, Cascade, Citra, Mosaic and Olicana to hand, I suggest not putting them all in the same beer.

The festival line-ups aren't as exciting as they used to be ("John Fucking Kimmich", lol) but one beer that did jump to my attention from the brochure was Antipodean Ale, brewed at Adnams but designed by Brew Moon of New Zealand. I first wrote about Brew Moon's beer on this blog in 2005 and most recently in 2009, but haven't seen them since. But, much like myself, they're still going and showing up in JD Wetherspoon. It's perhaps more golden than amber and has a lightly tropical aroma. That takes a sideways turn on tasting, into nutty nougat and marzipan. The sweet side is dialled back, keeeping things summery and refreshing, and while there's no significant hop bitterness, there's a dry bite on the finish to keep things drinkable. I drank a half in a hurry but would have been very happy to take more time over a pint or two of this. There's an understated complexity which I suspect has lot to do with Adnams's involvement.

That's as far as I got. It was an early finish because nothing on earth would get me into a Dublin Wetherspoon on St Patrick's weekend, when the festival wrapped up. Of course, an inevitable consequence of all this Wetherspoon-going is a number of non-festival beers which also presented themselves for ticking. I'll cover those off next.