Despite the sunshine there was still a nip in the air when Kinnegar's Brewers At Play 45 arrived, so I can forgive the brewery for putting out a winter beer just as spring starts turning to summer. It's a smoked porter with maple syrup, and surprisingly low-strength for such a thing, at a mere 4.2% ABV.
It's not a light beer, however. The brewery's description suggests that it was designed smoke-first with the syrup as an afterthought, but it's exceedingly dense, though tastes and feels more like chocolate sauce than maple syrup. The base porter, then, is wonderfully full-flavoured, packed with high-cocoa chocolate mixed with dark-roast coffee, the impact aided by the silky texture. Yet oddly there's very little smoke, that I could detect, maybe just a hint of burnt sugar to signal its presence. I don't miss it, though; there are few things worse than a smoked porter that tastes ashen or fishy, and this definitely isn't one of those. The maple flavour arrives right on the end, present but unobtrusive. I'm not sure it's needed: the underlying porter is plenty.
This is the sort of high quality autumn seasonal that works well any time of the year. It's big, bold and luxurious, yet at a strength to permit mid-week drinking. Another addition to the Kinnegar pantheon of top notch dark beers.
30 April 2025
28 April 2025
It was twenty years ago today

I can't remember the last time I saw a clear triple IPA, but it's quite the thrill: the promise of a strong, clean, upright and muscular experience; a beer six-pack of a different sort altogether. The aroma is pure West Coast, but not in an especially intense way, just nice sparks of grapefruit zest on a clean malt base which calls to mind strong pale lager. Flavourwise, it's not hugely different to how I remember its double IPA antecedent, Pliny the Elder, tasting: an orderly array of classic American IPA characteristics, including grapefruit, pine, orange peel and a touch of spicy, herby, cannabis. The extra strength does make a contribution to all this, though, preventing any harsh IBU-chasing bitterness by adding a slightly syrupy residual-sugar effect. Despite it, the heat intensity is restrained and I wouldn't have guessed an ABV as high as 10.25%. This is drinkable rocket fuel.
Overall, it's a jolly decent beer. I get how, two decades ago, it would have been eye-poppingly amazing. At the time, I was only just discovering what Sierra Nevada Pale Ale does, and there wasn't a single commercial brewer in this country using Cascade hops, never mind anything more intense. But triple IPA made its way here eventually: half way between 2005 and now, Trouble Brewing released Ireland's first, and it wasn't markedly different to what I have in front of me. Since then, American IPA went tragically off course [insert politics joke here], and there are now any number of hot messes claiming to be worthy triple IPA, so the amazement factor is now back, except in retro mode: this is great because hardly anyone makes IPA like it, or as good, any more.
We're just two twenty-year-olds, having fun together, not caring that the rest of the world has moved on. A big thanks to Paul for gifting me the bottle.
25 April 2025
Toro!

I was expecting some excoriation to be necessary when I came to today's pair of beers.

Damm's effort comes from its brewery in Málaga, and is called Victoria Málaga. It's presented in a 66cl bottle and, like Moretti, the label features an old-timey bloke with a hat -- he's a German tourist, apparently, the beer's mascot since the 1950s, before Damm bought and revived it in 2001. It's a quite a dark one; the clear golden colour having a slight tint of coppery red in it. It doesn't look like a cheapie mass-market job.
Not much happens in the aroma, just a vague graininess which is the sort you get from mass-market lager, though the body is fuller than I expected from just 4.8% ABV. There's a proper malt foretaste, thick and bready, with some quite Czech-tasting golden syrup. Alas, it doesn't last long, fading before the beer's other flavour kicks in. That's a mild zinc-like bitter bite, very much the sort you get from old-world hops, and likely German ones. This too is fleeting, and it finishes promptly and cleanly. This shows some of the features of good wholesome lagers, but its industrial nature betrays it. While it doesn't taste cheap or compromised, there's not really enough depth of taste for me to recommend it. It could have been much worse.

The aroma is quite sugary, but not in a malt-like way, and suggests that the beer might become sweet and cloying. The chance would be a fine thing. On tasting there's almost nothing going on, with the insistent fizz providing white noise where the flavour should be. I let it warm up a little, in the hope that something of interest would emerge, but nothing of interest is on the cards here. There's a slight tang of green apple and brown sugar, hallmarks of lager done on the cheap, but nothing beyond this. Any bite comes from the carbonation rather than hops. It's not unpleasant, but it is extremely basic. Is it an effective substitute for the price-conscious Madrí drinker? Sure, why not?
I remain none the wiser about the Mediterranean lager trend. These beers are quite different from each other, yet both are being pitched at the same segment of beer drinkers. Neither has TV adverts, though, so I guess they'll continue in the ha'penny place, regardless of any individual merits. I'm certainly not planning to buy either one again, but the four paragraphs above mean I got my money's worth from them.
23 April 2025
Tripel the fun

Now the two lesser siblings have got together to create a new draught product: Westmalle Duo. It's a 60/40 blend of the pair, and I guess the idea is to deliver the complexity of Westmalle Tripel at a more approachable strength. Still, it's 7.2% ABV, so I wouldn't exactly deem it a session beer.

It has been a while since I last drank either of the component beers, but this did not seem at all like a compromise between them. The dilution of the alcohol has not in any way diluted the taste. Draught serving also results in a lighter carbonation, which may be why the flavour seems so pronounced. There's also plenty of slick and smooth body to give it a long and luxurious finish.
My assumption that this is a slightly cynical attempt at extending Westmalle's share of throat (shudder) remains, but it is still a superb beer. It's perfect for that one last one of the night, when you want the big flavour and the heft, and maybe there's nothing suitable in the venue's small-pack selection. I don't know how many Irish pubs will be willing to keep a 7.2% ABV on draught, though. I wish we could fix that.
21 April 2025
American things

You don't see many California commons brewed these days, and I think this may be Wicklow Wolf's first. It's called Pacific Heights, and is 4.9% ABV. It's an attractive clear golden, looking very lager-like, in a classy way. There's a surprising sweetness at the front of the flavour, all perfume and fruit-flavoured candy. I found it a little strange that this was set on a clean lager-like base: the two don't work very well together. California common should be crisp, not floral, with a crunch of crackers. That's missing from this one, which instead goes for estery fruit, with overtones of cherry, banana and rum cocktails. I'm not a fan. The flavours would work in a big and bold beer. In one that's trying to be subtle and modest, they're a distraction. We may not get many California commons, but we haven't forgotten how they taste, and this one doesn't fit in. I'm not a fan of the warm, headachey alcohol vapours on offer here.



I guess there's more stylistic leeway with IPAs compared to California common or pilsner, as long as you get the fundamentals right. Next Stop and Cliff Walk are commended to anyone who likes their beer with a pronounced hop character. Off Script offers lager lovers a certain clean yet weighty charm. I don't know who the other one is for, however.
18 April 2025
Widening appeal

The year's first warm evening on the patio brought me Summer in Siam, a witbier. It's on the light side at only 4.3% ABV, and they've skipped the coriander and orange peel, hoping to get their combined effect from lemongrass instead. In the glass it's a sickly-looking greenish-yellow, though the head is properly white and fluffy. A bit of a farty whiff suggests that the yeast is properly Belgian, at least. Before I could get to the flavour, I was already disappointed by the texture. Beneath that fluffy foam it's not a fluffy beer, and from the first pull was unfortunately thin and fizzy. You do get your money's worth from the lemongrass: it tastes very much of it, clear and green and herbal, with a lacing of citric acidity. There's dry rasp from the grain and then it all tails off abruptly. I guess it's meant to be easy-drinking refreshment, but I think it needs to be sweeter for that. This is quite a pointy and severe witbier, rather than a fun one. The lemongrass is a highlight but it doesn't have much else going for it, I thought.

This pair really didn't do it for me, and I don't think I can place the blame on them not being in the brewery's usual fun and funky area of work. Neither represents their respective mainstream style at all well. A bit of bugs 'n' Brett would have benefitted either.
16 April 2025
The novelty factor

Now, I have never eaten a cronut -- portmanteau words give me indigestion -- so I can't speak to how accurately this 10.5% ABV recreates the experience. To be honest, I didn't really get any sense of pastry from it, in the cake or bread sense: neither donut nor croissant. The coconut, though? Oh yes, in spades. I guess it doesn't take much of it to make a stout taste coconutty, because those that have it tend to absolutely honk of it, like this fellow. There's plenty of chocolate too: syrupy and thick, resembling more a sticky chocolate sauce than the real thing, and lacking the proper cocoa promised by the "dark" chocolate part of the beer's name. Beyond that, it's just sweetness, the lactose adding that particular vanilla quality that's common to lots of beers like this. And though it's heavy, it's not hot: the double-digit alcohol causing no unpleasantness.
While the name utterly overstates the case for what it is, it's a decent and fun beer, and was absolutely the afters I was after on the day. If you hate this sort of thing, whether the title, the concept or the taste, then it's best avoided. Me, I liked how simple it was in contrast to the very involved specification. I'd have been more inclined to buy it if they'd called it Big Chocolatey Stout and nothing else.
14 April 2025
Belgians abroad

The first is, purportedly, a Kriek, but I had my suspicions from the outset. This example, from Lithuania's Volfas Engelmann, claims to be "Belgian style" but is only 4% ABV and I wasn't expecting much wild character, if any. I wasn't surprised to find that it's pink, nor that it is, indeed, very very sweet. It differs from syrupy Belgian kriek by having a realer cherry flavour: there's a hint of the genuine flesh of the black cherry here. The label tells us this is down to the 10% real cherry juice it includes. Beyond that, it has pretty much nothing else going on in it. There's not even a pretence of sourness. I have a strong tolerance for this sort of daftly sweet beer, and it didn't take me long to chug through a pint of it. I can't say it made me think of Belgium, however.


The complexity of their beer is what makes Belgium distinct, and it's essential to get that right when trying to copy it. Many's a brewer goes to the extreme, resulting in beer that's too hot or too cloying. These ones all have the opposite problem: they've got the basics right, but are missing the extra spark which seems to come naturally to Belgian brewers but is elusive elsewhere.
11 April 2025
Back in business

First up, a rum/whiskey barrel-aged Helles? Did you ever hear tell of such a thing? Helles Yeh! is the latest in the collaboration series between DOT and the Teeling Whiskey distillery, and sold exclusively through its giftshop in Dublin. It's kellerbier hazy and smells a little like dry crackers and faintly of oaky spirit, with perhaps a little more of rum's sweetness than whiskey's. The mouthfeel brings us back to classic Bavarian lager: it's properly smooth and very clean, opening with a crisp grain crunch followed by softer honey and spongecake. It's only 5% ABV but doesn't really use that to deliver big flavours, and I feel a little gypped by how little it tastes of the barrels: you need to dig right in to the back to find a thin patch of oak and spirit. It's decent drinking, though, and comes across as a better example of Helles than I thought it was going to be. But at €6* for a small can, I feel it did owe me more complexity. Or a bigger can.


I confess I haven't been keeping fully up to date with these, and the pair starts on Over A Barrel 06: Blend Whiskey Ex Blackberry Brandy. Whiskey support here comes from Two Stacks rather than the more usual Teeling. One doesn't expect much of a head from barrel-aged beer, but this had a full-sized pillow of beige foam over the shiny black body. It's blackberries a-go-go in the aroma; smelling of all the mushed forest fruits in quite a yoghurt-like way. It only becomes a little more stout-like in the flavour, and the fruit is still fully infusing it, building up to a surprisingly intense perfumed finish. Before that, the milk stout presents in quite a typical way, with creamy milk chocolate, plus hints of vanilla and latte. It's only 9% ABV, so badging it as "imperial" rather than, say "export" is a bit of a liberty, and the flavour reflects this understatedness. A growing alcoholic warmth in the belly is the only real sign that it has welly. There's a decent beer in here, but the blackberry brandy gives it too much blackberry, almost like they've simply dumped in some syrup. Give me more stout, please.

DOT will soon be celebrating nine years in business. They've decided some re-brews are in order, but maybe we'll get something new as well.
*Compliance with the law on drinks packaging is for the little people, not Teeling. They don't charge deposits on the DOT cans, though they are returnable, so the net cost of this one was a mere €5.85.
09 April 2025
Creatures feature

First of the pair is called Animal Farm and is described as a "farmhouse" session IPA, without any further elaboration on that epithet. 4% ABV is certainly sessiony, and it looks well: a pale sunset yellow, gently hazed and skimmed with white foam. The aroma is juicy like mandarin with a spicy edge, but still nothing out of the ordinary. On tasting, however: here comes the farm. It's a mild but distinct gummy funk, a little like you get from Brettanomyces, but dialled back so as not to interfere with the hops. It finishes on a similarly gentle dry peppery heat. All of this microbial fun plays second fiddle to the hops, which retain a fresh and luscious tropical quality which is entirely complementary with the wildness. This beer shows a superb level of of delicious complexity without losing sight of its sessionability, and was a bargain for €3.25 the can. One for both wild beer fans and hop lovers to stock up on.

I am genuinely pleased to see beer under the Larkin's brand still being produced, albeit at a much reduced pace. Maybe when the owners realise that their premium lager wheeze isn't going to fly, we might get back to something resembling the old days. And if the old Larkin's Baltic Porter recipe is sitting in a filing cabinet somewhere, well...
07 April 2025
Secrets and mysteries

Open Gate has a remit to name its small batch beers after local places and history, but do they provide an explanation for these? Oh my, no. That would be helpful. Instead you get pale ales called things like "Threadcount", which might be a reference to the textile trade which shared the Dublin Liberties neighbourhood with brewing and distilling, but there's literally no way of finding out. This, on the left of the flight, is 4.9% ABV and rather murky; a slightly coppery red-gold colour. The aroma gives little away, and on tasting it proves quite thick and sweet, with unsubtle strawberry and raspberry tones. It is at least clean: Open Gate has form on making muddy-tasting pale ales, but this isn't one of them. It keeps things light and summery, with a long finish of sherbet and candied citrus peel. As long as you don't want any bitterness in your pale ale -- and it seems that most people these days don't -- it's an acceptable option.
In the paddle's middle is Sweetheart Sour, the Valentine's Day special, superannuated in the run-up to St Patrick's Day. It's a crystalline scarlet colour with a brush of pink foam. The aroma is an unremarkable cereal dryness, with no fruit and no sourness. A popping, punchy tartness is where the flavour starts, followed quickly by cherry and raspberry. If the intention was to recreate Love Heart sweets in beer form then they've done a superb job of it: artificial berry essence meeting alkaline effervescence. It's no high-brow wild-fermented sour beer, but equally not the sort of syrupy confection that too many brewers try to pass off as sour these days. There is zing and there is bite, and they're well done.
The last beer on the paddle is the one I came in for especially. I mentioned last year that Calvados ageing of beer is something I approve of and would like to see more of. So here's Open Gate with Calvados Champagne Ale, eliding two different drinks from northern France in a single beer. This is 8.3% ABV and a clear golden with no head. It tastes, in short, like Fino sherry: oxidation is a loud and brash main act here, giving me cork and grape skin, running right through from start to finish. It's light and breezy, not tasting or feeling the strength, but does get a little cloying and difficult when the novelty wears off. I liked it. Though it doesn't really have much Calvados about it -- maybe a little autumnal orchard funk if you look for it -- there is a certain Champagne crispness. But if they'd called it a sherry ale I would have completely understood it from the get-go. Fino fans assemble.

So that's what was going down at Arthur's gaff in March. It must be nearly time to pop by again, although a bit more effort in keeping their online beer lists updated (ie, some effort; any effort) would be good.
04 April 2025
What's going on?



Galway Bay's previous whiskey-barrelled stouts tended not to be such shrinking violets: they know how to deliver the spirit and the warm. So I don't know what's happened to either of these stouts. Maybe some longer maturation would be in order. There's nothing wrong with the pils, though: that can be left alone.
02 April 2025
Ketchup, catsup...

For the former, we have Airbell by Lough Gill. This was a terribly handsome fellow once poured into a glass: a deep and serious golden colour, crystal clear, topped with a generous pillow of pure white foam. There's not a Bavarian alive who wouldn't be charmed by that. It all turns very un-continental afterwards, however, starting with the freshly zesty aroma making it very clear there is citrus to come. The flavour follows right through on that promise, delivering an intense hit of freshly-squeezed lemon juice. It runs the risk of tasting a bit like washing-up liquid but avoids it thanks to a generous malt base, providing the pancake for the hops' Jif. Throughout, it's as squeaky clean as I'd want a lager to be, and the pinch of grapefruit bitterness on the end adds to its significant ability to quench and refresh. There's a lot going on in this for a mere 4.5% ABV, and if you didn't know Lough Gill, you might be surprised that something so accomplished could come from a small brewery in north-west Ireland.

You demand conclusions. It's probably something about how the myriad decisions required when formulating any beer recipe have more of an effect on the finished product than any pre-determined notion of style. Or, pay more attention to what brewers brew than to what they write on their cans.