Serious fun

Sour IPA is one of my favourite beer styles, and one produced much too rarely. When I spotted an example from Dutch brewery Baxbier, I had to give it a go. It's called Pucker Potion and is 6.2% ABV. It's as pale and hazy as these tend to be, looking like old-school lemonade, although there are some disturbingly large gobbets bobbing around in it. The aroma is fresh and zesty, powerful enough to suggest pancake topping. The flavour continues the lemon theme, although it's more sweet than sour: the lemonade effect again. I detect a certain wild acidity with a hint of barnyard funk in the background, but it's not very pronounced. This is happy and zingy for the most part, with a sunny disposition and some irresponsibly well-hidden alcohol. I would have liked a bit more pucker to the potion, but came away from it considerably more refreshed than when I started.

And if that looked and tasted like old-school lemonade, what to make of Oldskool Lemonade? It's another IPA, this one 6% ABV and with added lemon juice, lemon peel, lactose and vanilla. That sounds quite busy. It's quite hazy; an opaque yellow, on the darker side. It smells bright and summery, which suited the afternoon on which I drank it: fun and zesty; a spritz of orange and grapefruit, conjuring summer cocktails on the terrace. I'm very happy to say the lactose and vanilla are not at all apparent, and it's crisp and tangy, lacking any sugary quality from the malt and the milk. This does not really taste like lemonade of any stripe, so the name is a bust. It does use the weighty body well -- more lemon curd than lemonade. All told, it's pretty decent. For a sunny day on the patio, it worked especially well.

To conclude, we Party Like There's A Cherry On Top, a 12% ABV stout with added cherries, chocolate, lactose and vanilla, for the full pastry effect. It's a foamy one, with a luxurious creamy head over the jet-black body. It smells quite serious, of dark-roasted coffee and crunchy hazelnuts, giving away none of the silliness suggested by the branding. The flavour, too, is subtle and balanced -- unusual for a pastry stout, but I will absolutely take it. The roast is paramount, and again there's a crunch, of dry coffee grounds and unadorned wafer biscuits. After a moment, the chocolate emerges, and it's a very real effect: dark and bitter, where I would have thought the added vanilla and lactose would create a milk chocolate character. In fact, if those two ingredients were supposed to make it sweet and pastry-like then they've completely failed at their task, but it's a better beer for it. The cherries are subtle, but present right at the very end. When the alcohol vapours drift up the back of your nose after swallowing, they carry a gentle kirsch warmth, one which then respectfully fades away, ready for your next mouthful of mocha. This is a much better beer than I was expecting it to be; a proper imperial stout to the core, having some fun with silly ingredients, but not allowing them to turn the beer silly. Pastry stout designed for the thinking beer-drinker is all too rare in this world.

There's a daftness to the Baxbier branding, and the way it presents its off-kilter beers. Don't let it fool you into thinking they're simply novelty gimmicks, however. These recipes have been well-formulated and carefully produced. The results are enjoyably entertaining rather than clownishly silly.