What works and what doesn't

The Jumping Church Brewery has been operating in Ardee, Co. Louth, since 2021. They've made no more than a handful of different beers in that time, and seemingly none of it travels very far from its place of origin. I have Thomas and Brendan to thank for donating today's three bottles, picked up on their way south to Mullingar in April. I will say at the outset that I don't have a whole lot of trust in the quality of the beer from small rural Irish breweries with very limited distribution. But I hoped for the best.

First open was Gae Bolga, a pale ale of 4.3% ABV. It's a slightly hazy amber colour, and the first sign that something may be amiss was the mass of froth and busy carbonation. If the conditioning wasn't properly under control, what else wasn't? The answer comes right in the foretaste: an acrid burnt rubber taste which suggests something is up with either the water treatment or the fermentation. It's a rookie homebrew error, and sadly much too common in beer from these sorts of tiny breweries. This is allied with a cardboard-like twang which suggests oxidation as well. Because it's a light and, frankly, quite watery beer, the Cascade, Columbus and Centennial hops' contribution isn't very loud and gets drowned out by the off flavours, for the most part. Only Cascade's earthiness puts in a proper appearance.  It's not woeful, but it's not a good pale ale either, and certainly nothing like an American brewery would produce. I hoped for better from the following two darker beers.

The retro style whose scarcity everyone complains about but nobody actually buys, red ale, is represented by Ferdia Red, again 4.3% ABV. Full marks for the visuals: it's a dark cola-brown with an off-white head, making it look wholesome and rustic, as I'm sure was the intention. It's quite fizzy again, however, which here interferes somewhat with the all-important malt in the flavour profile. When that settles a bit, there's weighty mix of caramel, coffee and chocolate, reminding me a little of another by-gone style, ruby porter, represented on this island by the once-mighty Clotworthy Dobbin from Whitewater. While that had a sneaky cheeky twist of Cascade bitterness in the finish, this is an all malt affair, taking you on a tour of the characteristics of the medium dark varieties. A very slight vegetal tang -- English hops, I assume -- is the only thing to tell you hops were involved somewhere. I was worried about off flavours which might have crept in during production or packaging but I am very happy to report that it's clean as a bean. I will take well-made and simple over complex and wonky any night of the week. This is the beer that Macardle's wishes it could be. A bottle in a warm, dark pub would be ideal, though I could still discern its quality on a drizzly summer afternoon. You won't often find me extolling Irish red, even when new ones are a rarity, but this meets the requirements adequately and is an enjoyable grown-up drink.

It must make your excise returns easier when your core range are all the same strength, because The Turf Man stout is also 4.3% ABV. While the red was dark, the stout is only a couple of shades darker beyond that, pouring a chocolate brown and looking a little murky under the cream-coloured head. The aroma is lightly roasty, not dissimilar to a certain big-brand Irish stout when it's in carbonated format: slightly burnt toast and a metallic mineral tang. I was surprised to find the texture full-on creamy, the fizz held well in check and a smooth, almost cake-like, texture taking over. The flavour is not an especially strong one, so this is very much a stout built for the session -- I would very happily spend the night on it. Nothing builds, nothings cloys, nothing twangs, and instead there's a brisk dry roast with a glimpse of a slightly deeper dark chocolate complexity: something to hold your interest during any lull in the conversation. Some slightly sticky black liquorice indicates the hops' presence. This feels to me like an Irish stout designed by someone who loves to drink Irish stout. It is the epitome of nothing-fancy while still having an understated character and quality. Like with the red, I can't pick anything I would do different, given the specification.

I don't imagine we'll be seeing any sour fruit beers or rye-and-grapefruit saisons from Jumping Church any time soon. This seems to me like the sort of little local brewer of quality, traditional-style, beers that should be rinsing the multinationals in its catchment area. That hop-forward beer might be a problem for them is unfortunate, but there's no reason they need to get good at that, any more than they need a lager. Even in this day and age it should be possible to make a living producing the basics of beer in a excellent way, as Jumping Church appears to be doing.