Belgians abroad

The influence of Belgium on the brewing world spreads far and wide. I noticed this on opening my beer fridge recently. Here are three beers from three different countries, all taking their cue from Belgian tradition.

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.

From the odd to the downright strange. Colorado's Left Hand has long made bottled nitrogenated beer its whole thing, and is best known for the milk stout to which it gave this treatment. Would it work with a witbier? I can't believe anyone even asked. The other specs of Belgian White Nitro are pretty accurate, at 4.8% ABV and brewed with coriander and orange peel. The nitro gimmick works well for the appearance, and you get a thick and lasting head, although it looks a bit wrong sitting over a perfectly clear witbier. I didn't realise that high carbonation is an intrinsic part of the style's charm, but the flatness of this one brought it home. It feels gloopy and cloying, like smoothflow English bitter, lacking any palate-scrubbing condition and accentuating the malt sweetness. The coriander feels clumsily tacked on to this, more a chemical pollutant than a herbal seasoning. It looks good, but it doesn't work. There is nothing to be gained from nitrogenating witbier, however one does it.

We return home to Dublin for the final round: Belgian Tripel from Hope, number 35 in its Limited Edition series, for anyone counting. The first thing to note is that it has very poor head retention, and the second that my Westmalle chalice holds a full 44cl. It's darker than tripel typically is, and it's sweeter too, giving a strong impression of boiled sweets and candied citrus peel. I like a bit of spice in a tripel, and there's none of that on offer here. After the sugary foretaste it all just tails off, with a faint vegetal bitterness but nothing much else. Strong Belgian-style beer should be bold yet subtle, and this manages neither, tasting like simple alcoholic barley water, lacking finesse.

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.

Back in business

I spoke a bit too soon when I complained that there hadn't been many new DOT beers in my line of sight this year so far. Before that was even published, there were four more to add to my to-drink list, all of them thanks to DOT's assorted pals and partners.

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.

We switch retail partners for the next one, another in DOT's Spin Off Series for Aldi: Oatmeal IPA. This is 5.8% ABV and a mostly-clear golden colour, suggesting the west coast of America more than it does a bowl of porridge. The head was a little slow to form, so condition was the first thing I was on alert for. No problems there: it's lightly carbonated, which helps the oatmeal smoothness do its thing, resulting in something that resembles the mouthfeel of a nitrogenated beer without being one. I found the hop side a little bit lacking, with only a vague piney acidity at work in both the aroma and flavour. We're promised "juicy fruity Simcoe" (is that a thing?) by the label, but the beer does very little to back up this promise. The flavour is primarily built around cereal flavours, dry and flaky. On one hand that shouldn't be a surprise with oatmeal, but equally, oatmeal IPAs never taste of the actual oats: that's not the point. I also get a very slight soapy twang on the finish. I don't know where that came from, but it could have been covered up with more hops. This is a compromised affair which will doubtless shift units, and if that helps keep the brewery lights on, all to the good. It's not DOT's best work in the hop-forward space, however.

Back to the barrels, and the next two are continuations of the barrel-aged imperial milk stouts that DOT has created with Two Sides, the beer brand of Brickyard in Dundrum. 

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.

That request is directed at Over A Barrel 07: Single Malt Ex Maderia [sic], which sounds altogether more grown up. There's less of a head here, and the aroma is definitely all whiskey: the crunchy honeycomb candy of the Irish sort, at once sweet and seriously boozy. "But the Madeira," you ask, "Where's the Madeira?" That's present from the very beginning of the flavour, as a kind of coconut sweetness with an edge of raisin and booze. You know, Madeira. Once again, stout is not the principal characteristic, and you have to go looking for it. There's a certain amount of creamy chocolate, but it's buried under the mix of whiskey and wine, like some sort of temperance metaphor. While the previous one tasted innocent for its 9% ABV, this one is full-on barrels and spirits and the rest. It's fun, and provides everything one would expect from the spec. Brewers don't often barrel-age milk stouts, and this one shows how it should be done. No blackberries.

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.

Creatures feature

Larkin's remains something of an enigma in Irish brewing. It didn't feature on here at all in 2024, last seen just before Christmas the previous year. Today's beers are new-release and bear the address in Kilcoole where Larkin's has always operated. That's now, primarily, the Rí-Rá lager brewery, so... is Larkin's simply the badge they put on beer they make which aren't the flagship, or is it a side-project for someone working there, or is the founder still somehow involved in the brand? Nothing is clear, but I'm quite happy that Larkin's beer is still coming out, because I didn't especially care for Rí-Rá.

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.

The next one is a straight-up IPA with no particular bells nor whistles notified. It's called Hoppy Dog and is a full 6.5% ABV; hazy to an extent, but far from opaque. While not non-descript, there's nothing terribly special about the aroma, delivering a light dusting of sweetish citrus: satsuma or kumquat. The gravity gives it a hefty, dense mouthfeel, coming across almost syrupy. By rights, the hops should get to use this as a performance space, but they don't. I got no more than a mild tang of marmalade shred and a little, unwelcome, grated white onion acidity. It's too heavy to be refreshing and too bland to be characterful. "Needs more hops" we used to say in the old days, before all the haze brewers took us far too seriously. This could certainly do with a boost, of the modern and tropicalesque varieties, for both flavour and aroma. The €2.50 price tag (on special in Molloy's) was attractive, especially given the strength, but it definitely did taste like it was brewed to a price point, unfortunately.

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...

Secrets and mysteries

Time for another peep into the Guinness brand home's experimental brewery, or at least it was last month. Here's what I found.

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.

My finisher was an Open Gate Belgian Wit that was just coming to the end of its run. I only chanced a half, because a pint of wonky wit is not something I would relish being stuck with. This one isn't very cloudy and a dark-ish golden colour. The aroma is quite banana-ish, and it leans fully into that in the flavour, tasting much more like a weissbier than a wit. Like the sweeter sort of weiss, there's an element of caramel or toffee in with the banana, although it's not heavy or sticky, so at least has that in common with the Belgian style it's meant to be. I wasn't impressed, however. A half was the right decision.

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.

What's going on?

Three beers from Galway Bay are the subject today, beginning with Figo, a pilsner which they've deemed to be in the Italian style. That means extra hoppiness, inasmuch as I understand the term. It's a beautifully clear gold pint, and modestly strong at 4.5% ABV. I was warned by my friendly server in The Black Sheep about the bitterness, and I braced myself, but while there's more hop character than in a mass-market pilsner, it's not excessive or gimmicky. Tasted blind, I would put this more in the north German genre than what tends to get badged as Italian, and I mean that as a compliment: it is not trying to steal the clothes of perfumey American pale ale. Instead it's crisp and grassy rather than fruity; the hops well balanced and entirely complementary to a soft and springy malt base. There wasn't much aroma at first -- that's pints for ya -- but when I was half way down and had a sufficient volume of vapour trapped in the glass I found a very pleasant mirror of the fresh and green herbal taste. This deserves to be served in something more goblet-like, though absolutely still by the pint. It's a class act, all told, and I'm pleased to report that Galway Bay Brewery looks to have started another year with high-quality output.

It looks like there's a story to be told about Whiskey & Coffee, the stout they launched, quietly, in March. The badge implies that it's one in a series called "Modern Classics" and that it's a "celebration stout". Celebrating what, and how do the whiskey and coffee enter the picture? Not in the flavour, anyway. This tastes very plain indeed, and though it's not powerhouse-strength, 5.5% ABV is plenty to give a stout character. Here, the extent of the coffee is no more than you'd find in any typical dry stout. There's nothing resembling whiskey at all, so I doubt it's barrel-aged. Whisky-soaked oak chips, maybe? Sorry, there are more questions than answers with this one. I was a bit bored by it, not to mention confused.

Our finisher is a barrel-aged imperial stout -- haven't had one of those in a while -- called No Quarter. No skimping on the ABV here: it's 11.8% and pours a flawless obsidian with a slow-forming dark brown head. In the manner of Galway Bay, they've added tonka beans, maple syrup and vanilla, and of course the former is fully present in the aroma, showing tonka's signature candied cinnamon. That's heavily present in the flavour too, but superficially so, and it's easily ignored. The other two add-ins don't really make their presence felt, and I'm not surprised to find they blend in with the barrel's effects. That is subtle, though, with no spirituous heat or obvious sappy oak. Instead, it's smooth and creamy milk chocolate at the centre, giving a Snowball dusting of flaky coconut and dessertish coffee cake. A wisp of burnt-caramel smoke adds a modicum of dryness to the finish. The barrels don't really feature, and I had to check the label to find out what they were: bourbon, apparently. I complain about how honkingly unsubtle that can be in other stouts so I can't really complain about it being unobtrusive here. Points for complaint are few with this one: with the velvety smoothness, it's charming and classy, even if it does taste a bit like the bakery on cinnamon swirls day. The price, though, is not easy-going, and I think €13.50 for the half litre is excessive. If that sort of thing isn't a niggle for you, dig in.

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.

Ketchup, catsup...

The Jesuitical analysis of comparable beer styles never ceases to amuse and bemuse me, bless all the dear pedants who take such things seriously. Before us today is the question of how a "dry-hopped lager" differs from a "West Coast pilsner", because I'm sure these aren't terms that breweries simply assign arbitrarily.

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.

Also in that general neck of the Atlantic coast is Kinnegar, who have reached Brewers At Play 44 in their limited edition series. This is another pretty one, and I'm not sure I can recall when I last had two purely clear Irish beers on the trot. The aroma wasn't as in-my-face as the previous, only a wisp of sherbet or lemonade. The hops really don't manifest in the flavour, or at least not in The American Way. Instead, here's a very Germanic crispness; achingly dry in the Nordsee manner, with a rasp in the back of the throat, mixing celery and spinach with a harder plaster dust and burnt rubber acridity. I'm surprised to read on the can that it's done with American hops, because it really doesn't show much of their attributes, merely a light spritz of grapefruit zest at the end of something that's pilsner first and West Coast a distant second. It's not at all a bad beer -- I'm fond of a traditionally-formulated pils -- but it's not what I was expecting, and is very very different from the beer which preceded it.

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.

Lash in the hops

Today's selection is from the haze merchants at Whiplash and is end-to-end haze, of a variety of sorts. Can't have too much haze, right?

The brewery has form on doing good low-strength hop-forward beer, but Never Drinking Again is the first non-alcoholic one, claiming the title with an ABV of 0.5%. It's densely murky in the glass, an uneven yellow-ish orange with no proper head, looking just like a glass of fruit juice. I'm guessing they compensated for the lack of alcohol by absolutely saturating it in hops, and it's almost distracting enough. You barely notice the thinness through the absolute slap of concentrated tropical fruit which makes up the foretaste. That's followed quickly by a powerful warming resinous side, oily and dank with a significant peppery spice. The two aspects of the hops play well with each other, and last for a pleasingly long time. Reality kicks in at the eventual finish, however, which is rather watery and gives away the fact that it's not a proper beer. There's a growing mineral grittiness, which is something else that tends to mark out non-alcoholic pale ales, and not in a good way. My goal is, some day, to find one of these that's an acceptable substitute for the real thing. This probably comes closer than any pale ale so far, and props to the brewery for not skimping on the hops: that decision served them well. It takes more than sackfuls of hops to solve non-alcoholic beer's flavour and texture problems, however.

Onwards and upwards, and it's a pale ale next, called Melted Head. It's a collaboration with Verdant so I thought that haze might just feature, but was not prepared for the extreme egginess of the appearance: very pale and densely opaque, with an almost green tint to it. The aroma goes two ways, giving concentrated hop freshness -- both tropical and piney -- but also a serving of gritty dregs, the standard downfall of this kind of beer, though one Whiplash tends to be less susceptible to than others. I'm happy to say it's not a major feature of the flavour, which opens with a big, invigorating, bitter pine bite. That effect is sustained, even as it unfolds into oily resin and then some refreshing juicy mango or similar, which flashes briefly and indistinctly. Since it's only 4.8% ABV, this all wraps up quite quickly, leaving us with only the murky grit, which is a bit of a sad finish to what's otherwise rather a jolly little fellow. Those who are fond of their big and strong hazy IPAs will find this a welcome change of pace, delivering the main flavour components but at a more approachable strength.

And speaking of big and strong hazy IPAs, that's what the final two are. First, we're Fond of a Jar: a light one for Whiplash, at only 7.8% ABV. It's a dark shade of orange and completely opaque, smelling of fruit-flavoured candy, which is no surprise given the El Dorado and Strata hops listed on the front of the can. There's Citra too, and it's harder to find that influence. Bitterness is very limited, the flavour coming across mostly as a sticky fruit cordial, aided by significant warmth and thickness, thanks to the ABV and, I'm guessing, some exceptionally lazy yeast. This is basic stuff: the generic hazy double IPA that every brewery comes out with sooner or later. While it's predictable and inoffensive, I know Whiplash is capable of better. Maybe they've saved that for the next one.

Our hindmost offering is Raising Tables, brewed with frequent Whiplash collaborator Garage. This one goes the other side of the straight eight, at 8.2% ABV. It's very soupy looking, with almost a greyish tint to the eggy yellow. The aroma is quite savoury, with a combined fruit and spice combination, reminding me of brown sauce, which is a first for a hazy double IPA. It's very dense, and you know you're pulling on a strong beer when you drink it. I feared for what might happen in the flavour, but unduly so, it turned out. This is a really smooth charmer, showing the usual sharp garlic and sticky vanilla taste that many of these do, but somehow it gets away with it, avoiding being hot, harsh, dreggy, cloying, or any of those unpleasantnesses. Maybe the fruit side could be brighter, and I feel I deserve a modicum more alcohol warmth, but for the most part I was charmed by its grown up gentility. It's a welcome change from the bam-pow hyperactive toddler double IPAs that cool breweries usually create, especially when they're working in tandem.

We live in strange times when it's the non-alcoholic beer in the set which has the bam-pow hops. Whiplash is part of the scenery in Irish brewing these days, and I don't know if its complacency or my jaded palate which made these seem less vibrant than the beers it used to make.

The state of the art

"This could be a review of a beer you’ve enjoyed, or perhaps one you haven’t." O the temptation to just slap the Session badge on a pre-existing draft post and deem the job done. Critiquing beers is, after all, what I do here. But where's the challenge in that? For this month's Session, hosted by Matthew "Total" Curtis, I decided to up my game. Well, within reason.

The beer I've chosen for today's deep dive is Shadow Dancing, an extra stout by Dublin brewing institution Third Barrel. Regular readers will know what my usual first point of critique is with their cans: the cringe-inducing low quality AI generated artwork. The brewery used to have clean and stylish branding, but since it was handed over to a robot, it's become a series of blurry messes -- a poor match for their beers which tend to be very good. Streetscapes and signage are a particular weak point of the algorithm, and it's plopped out another one for this. Grim.

On to the beer, so. It pours quite thickly with lots of foam, taking two goes to get into the glass, with a luxurious creamy head as the reward for one's patience. I think of the style as being quite a bitter one, and the human-created part of the label promises us "full on roasty", "burnt toast" and "black coffee", so it was a surprise to find the aroma very sweet, showing toffee or molasses rather than anything sharper. But that's OK: I simply adjust my expectations. No surprises from the texture, however. 7% ABV here means a velvety smoothness; gently sparkled in a way which lets the flavour shine.

And shine it does. We start on that chewy dark sugar but there are hops not too far in the distance, bringing an old-world green bite which balances the caramel nicely. There's a herbal liquorice kick for an alternative bittering effect, and then a growing warmth, the gravity again making a contribution to the beer's overall character. What I like about 6%+ ABV stouts is how they can channel the features of the really big ones without turning unbalanced: too many imperial stouts are performatively sweet or bitter, if you can find one that isn't full of donuts or children's breakfast cereal, and nobody seems to try those silly gimmicks in the foreign extra space. Third Barrel calls this "a stout for stout drinkers" and it is: serious, but very charming too.

The topic gave me a reason to spend some time with this beer, and it's one which fully justifies slow drinking. The see-saw dialogue between the luxuriously sweet base and the stimulating roast and hopping provides entertainment in every sip. Not every beer -- not even every strong stout -- offers that. Exploring beers in a slow and long-winded fashion is pretty much my thing, so this was far from a novel experience. I hope some of today's other participants found such an exercise to be worthwhile. It's much easier when the subject beer is up to it.

Supplemental

As promised on Monday, an assortment of cask ales which I found in and around the recent JD Wetherspoon beer festival, but which weren't actually part of it.

Acorn's Old Moor is where we start. This is a porter, blackest of the black, with a head of agéd ivory. It is a creature of exquisite balance, being mostly quite dry and roasty but not thin, with added coffee oils rounding it out, including the slightly fruity cherry and raisin effect that some coffees give. There's some silky dark chocolate towards the end, a streak of buttery diacetyl, and then an assertively dry finish. I can't think what more any sane adult would demand from a 4.4% ABV porter. Yorkshire has a reputation for being no-nonsense, and they could sustain that on this beer alone. Proper.

I'm very surprised I haven't had the next one before. Wainwright used to be Thwaite's, now Marstons, next: who knows? It's all gone weird in the Carlsberg-Marstons empire these days. It's a golden ale of 4.1% ABV and, as usual in any Dublin Wetherspoon, looks perfect. I was expecting plain but there's quite a bit of character here. I'm guessing it got quite a warm fermentation because there is soft fruit aplenty, the flavour brimming with apricot, lychee and particularly banana. That follows a more subtle bubblegum aroma. Bitterness is not on offer, and only a faint trace of grain-husk dryness provides any balance. While this isn't bland, it isn't very impressive either, doing the cask blonde basics but no more than that. It's not on the list of beers that Carlsberg gave the chop to last year, but I wouldn't miss it if it were...

Staying in t'North, but moving to Yorkshire, Ilkley Brewery's Lotus is next, an American style IPA of 5.9% ABV. It was sharing a bar with Thornbridge Jaipur which seemed, in the words of Sir Humphrey, courageous. Quite a dark fellow, it smelled pleasingly citric, and the initial taste had the correct kick of grapefruit and lime. It takes a rapid left turn from there, delivering crazy fruit candy and banana esters -- an extreme sort of sweetness that's quite out of keeping with the style. The finish returns it to style somewhat, with a dryly acidic rasp, but that fruity weirdness remains the defining characteristic. I liked the brash boldness of it but also found it a bit too weird to fully approve of. If you've never had it, give it a go. I'd say it's a divisive one.

Finally, Gadd's No 3 had been assigned a festival badge at The Silver Penny, though it wasn't one of the 30-beer line-up. This is a pale ale, golden and clear, brewed with Fuggles, Goldings, and "some others I don't talk about". An admission that this Kent brewery doesn't use all-Kent hops? At 5% ABV it's a bit of a strong one. That strength is well used, giving the beer a full and chewy body. Whatever about the interlopers, its English hops give it a very beery flavour: a coppery mineral bitterness, infused with fresh and crunchy green vegetables, set on a slightly sticky base of golden syrup and oatmeal cookies. It might look like a lager but it's definitely a bitter: not quite as sharp as the similarly-golden northern archetypes (Landlord, Marble), but similarly clean, despite the extra malt. This is tasty, unfussy, and very well made. There's nothing novel or innovative about the flavours; only how precisely they've all been balanced against each other. This is the sort of beer I would love to have as a local regular; I couldn't imagine ever getting bored of it.

That's your lot for now, casketeers. We return to our normal force-carbonated content later in the week.

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.

Hop and change

Today I'm catching up with my late winter beers from The White Hag, all in hop-forward styles, as is the brewery's wont.

The first is Swell, claiming to be no more than a classic American-style pale ale, but casually dropping that it's also brewed with "HyperBoost™", a science-fiction sounding name for Citra hop extract. It's not a shortcut, it's an enhancement, honest. The beer certainly looks classic: the beautiful rose-gold colour of pale ales from a more civilised age, and flawlessly clear, of course. We're back in the 21st century with the aroma, which is more juicy than bitter; suggesting soft peach and cantaloupe. In the flavour, the bitterness is quite restrained, emerging only in the late finish, alongside a slightly oily burn. Before that, things stay sunny and tropical, giving me mango, pineapple and more of that melon. In fact, it has a lot in common with the brewery's fab flagship Little Fawn, which is a surprise as it's both stronger, at 5.2% ABV, and darker too. Still, I'm absolutely not complaining -- this is lovely. Maybe lacking in the punch of good ol' APA, but with plenty of clean tropical fun to make up for it.

I expected that to be the better of this pair, because it's a red IPA next, and they rarely float my proverbial. The Fox is another clear one, which was more of a surprise than it should have been, and is a beautiful chestnut red. It doesn't smell dark, exuding lots of spicy, peppery hops, like sandalwood or incense. Even though it's a full 6.5% ABV, the flavour is more muted than I'd hoped for: still hop forward, though not in any assertive way. Red IPAs tend to be harsh and unbalanced, but this one is a little on the blander side. Resin is the primary flavour, accompanied by a mild summer fruit vibe: strawberry and raspberry. The spice in the aroma arrives late and is gritty and bitty, coating dark toasted grain crumbs. That's enjoyable, and I like how it keeps the malt's caramels in check. So, it's drinkable, and even somewhat fun, but still not entirely to my taste, turning a little astringent once the hop kick fades. Props for making a style that nobody else bothers with, however.

Finally, a shout-out to Brian who had cans of Baby Duck in his fridge when I called round to raid it a few weeks ago. Well, it was his birthday. This 4.8% ABV pale ale was brewed in collaboration with the P. Mac's pub chain, and has the first bit of haze we've seen today: a pale yellow translucency. That it's designed primarily for pub drinking is apparent from quite an understated flavour, low on bitterness and with very accessible peach and mango notes. Like the beer up top, it has a deal in common with Little Fawn, although it lacks the token hop bite of that one. There's no real follow-through in the flavour: one mouthful leads to the next and nothing builds as it goes. That approach has its place, but I would have liked a measure or two more complexity, starting with some proper bitterness. As is, it runs the risk of blandness.

It took a bit of work to be properly critical of these. The White Hag knows how to make clean and tasty hop-forward beers, and isn't shy about keeping new ones coming, it seems.

No Rec commendations

A new brewery for me today: the abruptly named Rec, from Barcelona. The first tranche of beers included a variety of styles but I picked just two to give me an impression of how they go about their business. 

First, and appropriately for the Friday evening on which I drank it, comes After Work. They've called it an American pilsner, which explains the Strata and Chinook hops, though I don't think haze need be part of the spec. This is quite hazy. It smells bitter and mineral-like, in a way that does resemble both American pale ale and hop-forward European pils. The texture is smooth and it's not particularly fizzy, having a medium, balanced, sort of sparkle. It's in the flavour that it really turns exotic. Strata's fruity side is strongly in evidence, appearing both pithy and juicy, but definitely citric. I get a hint of coconut too, while on the non-hop side, the haze has given it a slight grittiness, so it's not as cleanly pristine as I think a pilsner should be. I guess "American kellerbier" isn't something you can put on a Catalan beer label, yet. There's a modicum of crispness -- a dry grain effect from the malt -- but I found myself reaching for ways in which it fits into the pilsner paradigm, and it mostly doesn't. It's a cheery little fellow, using the combination of hops nicely. It might have worked better on a clean pale ale chassis, however.

I was wary of the next one before I opened it, finding the can worryingly squashy to the touch. Sure enough, Rubik plopped lazily into the glass and I made every effort to coax a head onto it, for the sake of the photo. It doesn't have one really, though. There's a faint sparkle, so it's not actually flat, but this is allegedly a "West Coast IPA", and fizz should be an important component of that. What else did they get wrong? Well, funny you ask. I was taken aback by both the aroma and flavour, which are highly perfumed, starting on lavender and moving on to resinous balsam and spicy incense. There was a brief moment of confusion before my International Beer Judge Sense kicked in. This is Brettanomyces, in its most floral and twinkly mood, simultaneously sparking and funking, with never a dull moment. There's a little hop bitterness in the background, but that's pretty much identical to the sort you get in fresh Orval: zing does not feature, nor pine nor citrus. To say it's "not to style" is a massive understatement. I had my fun, but came away with the impression that this brewery doesn't have its quality assurance up to code, and next time I may not be so lucky.

Knowing me, there will still be a next time, eventually. It's unlikely to be soon, however.

Paddy's pales

It's time for 2025's first random round-up of pale ales from Irish breweries. And on our national day too. Let's see who's willing to stick their necks out and represent hoppy Irish beer in 2025. I've made sure all four provinces get a look-in.

A "micro IPA" starts us off gently, and I decided to put Lough Gill's Chill to the test with a realistic use-case: a Monday evening when I didn't really feel like drinking but didn't not feel like it either. That calls for a 3%-er. It's an attractive clear golden in the glass and has a very impressive aroma, smelling heavy and gummy, of luscious tropical fruit: cantaloupe, mango and guava. There's absolutely no sign at this stage that it's in any way compromised. There's only a very slight one on tasting, too, I'm happy to say. It starts pithy and spicy, with both tropical and citrus elements. It's very clean as well, with no intrusive off-flavours taking advantage of the lack of body. But that lack of body is where it falls a little short. The hops finish their act very promptly and the whole thing tails off into water, mere moments after sipping. So it's fun while it lasts; refreshing and easy-drinking, and with enough hop character to make it worth your while. I could see myself coming back to it on some future Monday.

I don't know which brewery created the next in today's selection: it's an Aldi pale ale, designed to mimic Beavertown's branding, and called Cosmic Hops. It's very much off-fashion, being completely clear and amber coloured. It smells sweet, and a little fruity, like crunchy Skittles or similar. I was expecting something more akin to a soft drink than a beer: sweet and fizzy. That's not what happened, however. It's undoubtedly cheaply made, hence the rock bottom 99 cent price tag, 3.8% ABV, and thin fizzy texture. Nevertheless, the flavour does have a certain charm, showing tannic English bitter vibes, with a fermenting silage funk and a bittersweet note of peach skin and white plum. It's not bad. I would be reasonably confident that this isn't actually the product of any Irish brewery, and is brewed by one of Aldi's suppliers in the UK. They've done much worse than this. I deem it a perfectly acceptable ultra-economical beer option, although it's not for fans of the sort of IPA Beavertown makes: as usual with these, it bears no resemblance to the beer whose clothes it has stolen. 

Belfast's Bullhouse is next up, with their St Patrick's Day theme beer, based on their Rolling Papers IPA, called Rolling Patrick. For, I guess, the sesh, they've dropped the ABV from 5.2% to 4.3%. It's still mega hazy, and has all the haze trappings: an attractive juicy aroma followed by a gritty flavour and texture. There's a dose of green spring onion, backed by a resinous weed twang, but nothing that the chalky murk doesn't quickly cover. It's surprisingly light for a hop-forward hazy beer: I guess I'm used to having these at American strength. That doesn't make it sessionable, however. There's too much rough and hot savoury unpleasantness, all dirty and serious, making it impossible to relax with. I'm sure the brewery put lots and lots of expensive hops into it, but without a clean base for them, that was a bit of a waste. Sure, it just isn't my kind of beer, but I have to wonder what anyone else would see in it.

Posh-nosh Dublin grocer Lotts & Co. has tended to have a fairly decent high-end beer and cider selection, for a shop that absolutely doesn't need to carry one. Now they've commissioned an exclusive, the contract going to Hopfully. They've called it &, and it's a hazy IPA, which is exactly the sort of thing one would approach Hopfully to make. It's only 5% ABV, though, so I guess is intended as a sessionable sort of house beer, a bit like the Aldi one above, but with oodles more class. It's a custardy yellow in the glass, which I'm sure will shock a Lotts patron or two, unused to craft IPA's modern ways. It smells bouncy and tropical, the mango and pineapple brought to you by Mosaic, Strata and -- surprise inclusion -- Hallertauer Mittelfrüh. The fruit aroma becomes concentrated and intense on tasting, laden with tinned peaches in syrup to begin, but fading quickly, with a quite contrasting dried herb mix taking over, presumably thanks to the German noble hops. There's a mild vanilla sweetness, but otherwise the haze element doesn't make its presence felt, with no heat, grit or other murky unpleasantness. It all works rather well: understated and subtle, as the name implies, but still characterful and enjoyable. It's good to find some simple and decent quality in a shop where the aisles are otherwise crammed with notions.

Also at 5% ABV is Roll in the Haze, from Whitewater. This brewery was one of the greats of Irish beer going back a decade or three, but I can't remember when a beer of theirs last impressed me. That's partly down to them not having any distribution in the south these days. Anyway, hello again Whitewater. What have you got for me? This pale ale is rather a dun ochre colour, definitely not showing the custard palette beloved of hoppy hazy beer's more involved enthusiasts. It looks murky through carelessness rather than by design. The aroma, too, is not that of fashionable haze but is hot and sweet, with a little vanilla and a lot of clove rock. Its flavour is plain and inoffensive, and I'm taking that as a win. There's a modicum of effervescent fruit candy and a dash of vanilla essence mixed with crunchy oat biscuit. This isn't on style at all and I don't think the brewer really understood the assignment. There's no juice, no freshness, no zing. Whitewater is a '90s vintage brewery that made some really good 20th-century-style beers. I wish it still did. The transition to our new millennium hasn't suited it very well.

The next beer, brewed by Lacada to celebrate 200 years of lifeboat service, scored a Golden Pint from me in December for its branding. The brewery's unofficial brand ambassador Simon was kind enough to slip me a can of Out On A Shout when last we met, so I get to try the actual beer now. It's another 5% ABV hazy IPA. The hops are what looks like a busy combination of Admiral (ha!), Trident (lol!), Yellow Sub (obvs), and Nelson Sauvin (tenuous, but I'll take it). Is it correct to allow maritime puns dictate the recipe? Yes, yes it is. In the glass it's quite densely hazy, and smells pithy, with a touch of unwelcome savoury seeds. The flavour is oily and resinous, lending it a chewy quality that's not supported by the light and breezy texture. There's a certain degree of fruity tropical sunshine, but for the most part it's all spinach, peanut oil and sesame seed. It has a heat that's more than the ABV suggests, but that's not a criticism: it punches above its weight and is sippable rather than a quaffer. The savoury side doesn't usually sit well with me but I don't have the usual objections here. It's full and rich, with enough fruit to balance its sharper angles, and achieves what it sets out to do adequately. 

This year's début from Third Barrel was Don't Look Up, an IPA of 6.5% ABV, its can featuring the usual cheap-and-smeary computer-generated "artwork". It's not badged as a "west coast" IPA and I think they might have missed a trick there, because it is one, and there's a fanbase for that. It's mostly clear and a kind of pale amber shade, topped with a thin but lasting skim of foam. With Centennial, Mosaic and Galaxy hops we're promised grapefruit, lime and mango, though it's the latter I get most of: a concentrated, almost syrupy, tropical sweetness. That's so concentrated as to turn acidic, although it's more of a rhubarb astringency to my mind, rather than zesty citrus. The aroma is a funky and foetid fruit effect, with more than a hint of weedy dank. There's a lot going on, but it all harmonises quickly and becomes delightfully drinkable: punchy without turning harsh; juicy without losing sight of its essential grown-up beeriness. The slightly high alcohol level gives it a satisfying roundness to smooth off the hops' various excesses. Though I've had many a beer with these hops, and possibly even with this specific combination, this is distinctively different in a high quality way. Grab it while the aroma is still singing.

Looks like it's just a short one this time out. Luckily, the brewers have now properly kicked into gear after the late winter doldrums and there's much more new stuff of interest knocking about. If you want to see what I think of it, you know where to check.