Hoppy Monday

The advent of summer brought us a raft of new hop-forward beers from Irish brewers. Here are the ones that haven't made it into some other post.

The White Hag has embarked on an Experimental Brew Series -- everyone else is doing it, so why not? First out is XBS: Session NEIPA, a hazy IPA of just 4.5% ABV. It's not especially hazy, being pale orange and not quite opaque. The hops are the not-very-experimental Amarillo, Citra and Motueka and not much else is out of the ordinary about it. Which isn't to say it's a bad beer. There's a very pleasant light tropical fruit quality: mango and passionfruit, joined by juicy peach and soft lychee. The Citra adds a seasoning of zesty bitterness. Even for the modest strength, it's light-bodied and verges on thin, but I think that's all part of the design. You get a lovely sessionable beer, brimming with fresh and juicy hop character. It's the sort of thing White Hag frequently excels at so I really don't know where the experimentation lies, but I probably shouldn't worry about that.

I complained previously that the hazy IPA imperative had infected wild beer specialists Wide Street, and now I see that the AI-slop label disease has too, with another smeary nighttime cityscape, devoid of humanity or artistry, adorning the label of City Lights, their new session IPA. It's as yellow and murky as you like (or not) and smells of the de rigueur mix of vanilla and citrus juice: not unpleasant, but by golly I've smelled it before. I've become somewhat fascinated by how the haze squad do texture at sessionable strengths, and this conducts itself expertly. Though only 4.6% ABV, it's full and fluffy, but there's an initial waxy twang in the foretaste that concerned me at the outset. It softens a little to coconut but never quite gets rid of the plastic note. Any fruit side is seriously low-balled, maybe a little pithy orange but -- and I searched -- nothing else to report. It's not unpleasant, and crucially it's not thin and harsh, but the flavour doesn't deliver anything worthwhile. I can't imagine a session on it.

I'm somewhat surprised that Brú Brewery still exists, never mind that it's had a rebrand and released a new beer, but here we are. "Brú has seen a few changes over the years" says the can, winning the award for understatement from anyone keeping track of Ireland's independent brewing scene over the last decade and a bit. I had been previously informed that Brú beer was produced on contract at Dundalk Bay, but this says it came from its parent's actual production facility, Galway Bay in Oranmore. I'm sure they wouldn't lie. Brú Hazy IPA is barely hazy: a sort of lemonade cloudiness, pouring thinly and crackling fizzily. No pillows here. The aroma is grainy and crisp, more like a lager than any kind of IPA, and with nothing hop-related to say. There's a certain substance to the taste, not feeling as thin as it looked and sounded, but there is nothing by way of fresh hop character, which is a grave error for anything calling itself an IPA in this day and age. Cereal, cordial, fizz and talc are the sum of its parts. It's hard to believe that anyone employed to brew a hazy IPA in 2025 has never actually drank one before, but that's the only explanation. It's not a bad beer; it's not infected or flawed, but it barely passes muster as a sort of stickier witbier, and definitely not as an IPA. Take a look at what you're doing, Brú. The corner cutting won't save your company.

Rascals is next, collaborating with English brewer Rivington, on Crack On, a 5% ABV hazy pale pale. This one is properly murked, though still pale orange rather than the trendier beaten-egg yellow. "Bold haze" and "juicy vibes" are promised on the label. I found it quite restrained, however. A barely-there aroma shows nothing more exciting than orange squash, while the flavour has a lacing of savoury raw onion around the edges and a big fat nothing in the middle. The body is decently full, and it would be a great platform for some exciting hop action, but it's just not there. The label does say it's "smashable" and it is indeed very easy drinking, but in quite a plain and unexciting way. Both of these brewers know their way around the haze genre, so all I can think is that something went wrong here. There aren't any technical flaws, nor any off-flavours. It's the lack of on-flavours that troubles me. This is a beer which is sorely wanting in whirlpool and fermentation tank hops.

From Hope, a 5.5% ABV Summer 2025 New England IPA, this being the third year in a row they've done this, and this time round the usual hops of Idaho 7, Azacca and Mosaic are joined by experimental variety HBC 1019. Juice features prominently in the aroma: it has lots of zesty orangeade and cordial sweetness. The flavour swings that way too, tasting like the fun first punch through the skin of a Capri-Sun: very sweet, very spritzy and very thirst-quenching. They say it's made for outdoor drinking and it absolutely is: piling in bright and fresh New-World hop qualities, set on a light body, and keeping clean throughout. It looks like Hope has largely ceased developing this recipe: neither this year's nor last year's cans carried the year on them. Should they choose to settle on this as every year's summer recipe then I fully support it. We don't have a perennial summer beer in this country, but if we did, I would quite like it to taste like this.

Just because it's hazy doesn't mean it's juicy, and Two Yards has given us a reminder of that with Shiny Hoppy People, the second of its name. Although it looks all bright and sweet, and does have a beautiful soft texture, it is seriously dank and resinous; much more bitter than New England-style IPA tends to be, and gloriously, unapologetically so. A burst of pithy citrus towards the finish is as fruitsome as it gets, and the 5.8% ABV is well concealed. As usual with Third Barrel's Two Sides offerings, this is a high-quality pinter, right in the sweet spot between quaffable and interesting. 

Lineman has extended the Electric Avenue IPA series to number 7, trying a combination of Centennial, Krush and BRU-1 hops. On paper that sounds like it would offer just the sort of lightly citric and softly tropical combination that previous versions have excelled at. A blast of mango and apricot up the nostrils indicates that I might be correct. The flavour is pure summer, centred on sweet and bright passionfruit that I would swear was purée-derived if I didn't know better (correct me if I'm wrong there, Linemen), right up to the slightly sticky texture. There isn't room for a whole lot of complexity beyond this, but I must give credit for a balancing resinous bitterness, a mild grassy spice, and the juicy red-apple finish. At 6% ABV and full-bodied, it's not ideal for the daytime summer session, unless you're really in a mood for celebration. It's well worth including in any sequence of beer consumption this season, when available, however. I'm no brewer, but would be very interested in finding out what happens if you put these hops in a lighter pale ale. For the sesh, like.

Next, here's Lough Gill, and surf's up, with Ocean Swell. The shade of amber is spot on, though the murk is very much un-retro and not welcome. It adds a layer of dirt to the otherwise clean and English-smelling marmalade aroma, and also to the flavour, which is broadly citric, but lacks any edge. It tastes like it should be clean, sharp and invigorating, and I'm fine without the oily richness that the better West Coast IPAs show. But there's no zing here; it's quite savoury by contrast, with notes of onion and peppercorn. This isn't unpleasant, and does impart a somewhat fun retro vibe, but from a time when breweries didn't have excellent quality control. There's an unfortunate wonky-homebrew vibe to it, whereas proper West Coast IPA ought to be very clean and very precise. Whatever reason they've chosen not to give this a proper clean before packing wasn't worth it, in my opinion.

Marking twelve years since they created Ireland's first double IPA, Galway Bay has released a revised version of Of Foam & Fury, incorporating Riwaka hops. It's not the most dramatic or celebratory variety, but let's see what they've done with them. The aroma is intense, and slightly shocking at first, suggesting hot rubber and burnt hair, but mellowing after a moment to grass and pepper with a dusting of gunpowder. That's quite different to classic OF&F, but the first sip reveals both a familiar heaviness and the dry, clean body that have been the beer's hallmarks despite its previous changes over the years. It's 8.3% ABV and has never been shy about letting you know that. The spicy vegetal note continues in the flavour, so the Riwaka wasn't a minor tweak but the beer's whole deal. It dovetails nicely with the almost syrup-like malt base, making something serious, savoury and chewy; a sipper, but not hot or difficult drinking. Above all, it's retro: a reminder of a time when double IPAs were see-through and you could taste their malt. I haven't drank the original in several years, and this made me feel a little guilty about avoiding it. Anyway, if you like your nostalgia with an up-to-date twist, this fellow delivers. For a reliable second opinion, Kill gives it the once-over here.

If nothing else, I think the above shows that there's quite a variation in the quality of Irish-brewed pale ales, even when we're largely past the point of commercial breweries making amateur mistakes. Some brewers seem more interested than others in showing us a hoppy good time.