Go collab yourself

Today's beer is a coffee porter, brewed by Third Barrel for TwoSides, the beer-brewing arm of Brickyard the pub. It's a collaboration with Grindstone, the coffee-brewing arm of the same business, which operates an adjacent café, and that's the name they've given the beer.

An enthusiasm for coffee shines through in the labelling: we're told it was roasted at Dublin roastery Blind Monkey, and is a combination of Santa Izabel from Brazil and Santa Monica from Colombia. I'm a little sceptical about the variety specifics mattering much when they're used in a beer, but if it means the creators had some extra fun designing the recipe, then I'm fine with that. There's a bit of heft to this, at 5.8% ABV, and it's an attractive, shiny, vinyl-black.

There is something a bit different about the aroma here: it's not just coffee. There's a nuance of tart red berries and roast chestnuts. The nutty side is very pronounced in the flavour: dry and savoury, rather than sweet. There's a not-unpleasant hint of fried onion, and then a herbal bitterness, which might be hop related, but equally could be the coffee again.

This is certainly no ordinary coffee porter, and anyone looking for the straight-up coffee-beer experience will be disappointed. Indeed, even the beer side of that equation is lacking. This has the creamy feel and light carbonation of good porter, but I didn't find much by way of chocolate or dark malt. It's still enjoyable, however, in its own odd way. I'm not in a position to say if the coffee is well represented in the flavour, but it certainly makes a singular and distinctive contribution. If coffee porter is your thing, here's a fun twist on the norm, which is still a very decent beer.

Rockies II

For the second week in a row I'm starting with a selection of beers from a brewery in Colorado. Odell is rather more familiar than last week's Bootstrap, and its beers are generally top-notch, bordering on iconic in places. I see a couple of potential challenges to that reputation among today's lot.

The "Sippin'" series of sour fruit beers hasn't been Odell's best work, in my opinion. Today we have Sippin' Blackberry: no surprise what the fruit is, but they've also added that pink Himalayan salt, for gosey notions. It's a dirty, murky pink emulsion, with something of a greyish tint. As usual with this sort of beer, the head is gone in moments. The aroma doesn't say much, only a mere suggestion of tart berry. The flavour, too, is understated, and maybe that's for the best. It might have been a sticky cordial, but it's not. The clean flavour includes a definite salinity, so they got some value out of that bonus ingredient. It's only 4.5% ABV and light-textured, with a busy fizz pummelling the palate. I'm guessing the blackberry has mostly fermented out, because there's no more than a trace of it, largely confined to the finish, and not really specifically blackberry; just a generalised hedgerow purple. It's fine. I could happily drink more than this 12oz serve. It's a bit plain to have been shipped from so far away, however.

The next beer is the one which made me particularly apprehensive. I have never understood the appeal of Mexican-style lager to the sort of fussy drinkers who buy beer from the likes of Odell. That it's a degenerate style is evidenced by the front-and-centre role of sweetcorn in the recipe, which gives this one its name: Kernel. It looks like an industrial lager: a bright clear yellow, and we're two-for-two on rubbish head retention. Unlike the last beer, the aroma isn't just minimal, it's non-existent. No surprise there. It has a certain amount of substance, 4.7% ABV providing an acceptable amount of body, so it's not one of those watery ersatz-Mexican affairs that you might find round here in a longneck bottle. That doesn't mean it's good, however. Flavour is hard come by. A little malt-syrup sweetness; maybe a hint of dry grain husk, but not enough of either to give the beer anything I would call character. I was genuinely tempted to squeeze a wedge of lime into it, just so it would have something going on. You would want to be a superfan of Odell, this style, or both, to make it any way worth your while. For me, like the last one, there's just not enough taste action.

That meant all expectation was on the final beer, a double IPA. They couldn't possibly not deliver here. Wire Walker is 8% ABV and specifies that it's in the west coast style. And they mean it too: it's very nearly as clear and golden as the lager. Finally, a worthwhile aroma: it's a classic citrus bite, blending oil and zest. That heralds a very old-school flavour, in quite a delightful way. Before anything else there is malt. While not the full-on toffee sweetness of crystal, there's a honey or golden syrup character, adding weight and texture but not so much heat. The hop bitterness is next, and it's perfectly balanced: punchy without turning harsh. The initial hit softens rapidly, grapefruit and pine fading to sherbet lemons and Seville orange marmalade. For such a strong beer it's incredibly drinkable, and I reckon it's the balance that does it. In particular, making the malt a major part of the offer is one of those ideas, along with cleanness and clarity, that lead commentators like me to opine that IPA has lost its way somewhat, here in the haze age. This beer is how it used to be done, and it was good. I guess it isn't madly dissimilar to Odell's magnificent flagship IPA, but I haven't had that in a while, so a reminder about it is always welcome.

I was right to be suspicious. Fruity sour ale and Mexican-style lager are not things that even a brewery of Odell's calibre is likely to excel at. Double IPA, however, is right in their wheelhouse. Here it's delivered crisp and tangy, in what's now essentially a heritage manner. Far be it from me to suggest any brewery stick to what it knows best, but if IPAs made you famous, maybe do more of that.

Picking favourites

It's been a while since I last had any beer from Marks & Spencer. The former high-end UK grocer used to be reliable for sturdy, traditional bottled beers of the bitter and pilsner sort, and it still stocks those, but I noticed more of a turn to contemporary beer fashion lately. 440ml cans, for one thing. I picked these two because they're produced for M&S by two of my favourite English breweries, so it seems like someone on the beer-commissioning side at the company has taste.

Adnams has long been a partner, and brewed many a slightly-tweaked version of their main beers for M&S. This one is original, as far as I know: Spruce Tip Pale Ale. I like a bit of the botanical now and then. As well as the spruce, there are juniper berries too, and the can promises "a hint of zesty lemon". It's a medium gold colour and very slightly hazed. The aroma does give off that zest, though more like lemon candy than the real thing. It's light-bodied and crisp, almost lager-like, with a modest ABV of 4.8%. In the flavour, the lemon is more than a hint, it's the whole deal. That makes it very refreshing, all summery sorbet and lemon-drop candy. What's missing? Oh yes: the spruce. I thought there would be a bit of greenery in the taste too, but there's not. The whole thing is very simple and fairly undemanding. I had hoped for something more novel and interesting, so it was a bit of a let-down. The Adnams quality shows through, and I could easily drink a lot of this. But there's no excuse for such a waste of spruce, not to mention the juniper berries. We move on.

While I'm not the Siren fanboy I once was, they do make exceedingly good stouts. They've brewed the canned Nitro Stout for Marks & Spencer, where it sits near the very decent bottled one that Carlow Brewing has been making for them since the beginning of time. This can is not widgeted so it's on the drinker to pour it vigorously to form the appropriate head. For possibly the first time in my experience, that works, and I got a pleasant-looking crème-caramel puck of foam over the pure black body. Vague milk chocolate is all the aroma offers from that, the nitrogen doing its usual nefarious work of muting such features. Full marks for the texture. I'm sure that making this a silky charmer was goal number one, and it absolutely is; light enough to be gulpable at 4.6% ABV, slick on the palate, but not cloying. There's no big bold flavour, which is a little disappointing but perhaps to be expected. What impressed me most is that it's not predominantly sweet: the aroma had me fearing a Dairy Milk overload. Instead, it has a dark chocolate character, with a real cocoa bitterness and a rasp of toasted grain. It meets the specs of draught Irish stout, but very much the better sort, with enough going on in the flavour to be suited to tasting instead of just drinking. While not up to the mark of Siren's best work (I had secretly hoped it was Broken Dream in disguise) it meets the requirements of just-Nitro-Stout-thankyou extremely well.

I can't be too critical of these because they're both jolly nice beers with not a thing wrong. It is evident, however, that they're for the supermarket, and have a crowd-pleasing, low-common-denominator factor about them: created to the spec of someone who wears a suit rather than overalls. To be expected from Marks & Spencer, I guess.

Two dai for

What I like in particular about Japanese beer, and I've not had a whole lot of it, is the tendency to come at things at an oblique angle, creating recipes that even the try-too-hard craft brewers of the west don't make. Last month's delicious sweet potato ale was one example, and today it's a new one for me from Kiuchi's Hitachino Nest range, about the only brand of Japanese-brewed beer you can buy in this country.

It's called DAiDAi Ale, daidai (橙) being Japanese for a type of native orange, and is an IPA made with Fukure Mikan mandarins and a selection of French hops. Is anybody around here doing that? Thought not. It's a lovely sunset amber colour in the glass, mostly clear, with only a fine misting of suspended sediment. There's no mistaking the oranges in the aroma, one which is at once zesty and oily. The hops don't get much of a say beyond that.

While it may smell a little like a soft drink, the mouthfeel is very grown-up and heavy, channelling a strong bock or even barley wine. The 6% ABV may have something to do with that: plenty of texture but not so much heat. Still no prominent hops in the flavour, and where I feared there would be syrupy orange concentrate there's only quite a subtle fruit presence up front, fresh and zesty, though understated. The surprise, however it's done, is a peppercorn spice, adding a warming piquancy which balances the weighty malt well. More orange arrives late, this time bringing a peel bitterness.

For a beer badged as an IPA, the lack of hop character is a bit of a fail, but it definitely delivered the pleasing kooky oddness I was hoping for. It's lovely to find a beer which, in a good way, tastes like nothing I've encountered previously.

Strap in

Beers from Bootstrap Brewing of Longmont, Colorado were a surprise find in a Dublin off licence last month. I assume we have Grand Cru Beers to thank for their presence, sharing transatlantic cargo space with Ska and Odell. Regardless, it's always nice to welcome a new visitor to the neighbourhood. What have we got here?

Lightest of the four is called Chillax, described as a "pineapple gold ale". The can lacks an ingredients list or any further information about the contents, while the brewery website merely rephrases the strapline to "golden ale with pineapple", so there is actual fruit in it. It's beautifully clear and brightly golden, although the fast-fading head lets it down on the appearance front. The aroma seems orthodox for a golden ale, with an enticing waft of warm honey. Though only 4.5% ABV, it has lots of body; a certain slickness to the mouthfeel and minimal carbonation, which I liked, effect on the head notwithstanding. The advantage of using a neutral golden ale as the base for adding fruit is that you get lots of fruit, and this has loads of fruit. Specifically, it tastes more like the liquid from a can of pineapple chunks than a beer. There's only a faint dryness in the finish to suggest malt's grain husks or possibly even some severely dialled-down hopping. Otherwise, pineapple is all there is, but it's at least subtle. There's more a sense of the fibrous flesh than overly sweet concentrated extract, the intensity just high enough to shield it from accusations of blandness. I wouldn't say I'm a fan, though: there isn't enough beer character to make this properly enjoyable, but, honestly, I thought it was going to be sickly and disgusting, and it isn't. The occasional understated novelty beer does nobody any harm.

The ABV leaps to 6.2% for the next one, called Boat Snack. It's a hazy IPA, if you've ever heard of such a thing. Apparently they're quite popular. It's not all that hazy, mind: pale yellow and fully translucent. They've done a better job of the head on this one. The aroma is sweetly citric, suggesting lemon curd and lime jelly, with maybe a harder grass bitterness in the background. Full marks again for the texture, showing the pleasant softness that is one of the style's endearing features. I'm not sure I'd award many style points for the flavour, but it's delicious. Instead of haze's vanilla and dregs, there's a clean and quite west-coast leaning bite of grapefruit and lime, growing as it goes to include more intense pine resin as well. Not what I expected, but I'll take it. The aftertaste is juicy, in fairness, but I wonder if the mouthwatering effect of the bitterness is at least partially responsible for that. This is lovely, and I'd say there's enough soft and fresh fruit to keep the cloudy IPA fans happy, but I like the idea that it's an undercover west-coaster. Style noodling aside, it's a well-made, fresh-tasting showcase for American hops. Par for the course up Colorado way, I imagine.

Hazy IPA is followed by "Juicy IPA". This could be the only brewery that draws a distinction between such things, and I very much doubt that many consumers do. Lush Puppy is the name, and it earns its place in the sequence by being everso slightly stronger than the previous, at 6.3% ABV. It's amber coloured, with powdery dregs which followed the mostly-clear beer into the glass at the end, murking it all up. There's little juice in the aroma, only a colourful candy sweetness, and that rather subdued. The flavour does deliver, however. OK, it's not a fresh-squeezed effect, but there's a quite beautiful mix of Sunny Delight or orange squash meeting a much more realistic zesty pith. Despite the strength, and a gummy-slick texture, it's nicely refreshing and slips back with indecent ease. I've had a few beers recently that made me think of summer -- maybe it's the abysmal grey weather we'd been having -- and this is another of those. It's fun, colourful, accessible, yet with plenty of multicoloured hop fruit complexity to keep those boring chin-strokers happy. Something for everyone.

Top that, says I. Last up is Insane Rush, an IPA to take your time with, at 7.6% ABV. "Made with crazy hops" says the can, in lieu of any useful information. I think we're going back to the '90s here: it's clear and a deep shade of red-amber. Please note also that head: a perfect dome that wouldn't look out of place on a macrostout fetishist's Instagram feed. With the colour comes the malt, and this tastes every bit as crystal-laden as it looks. Foil-wrapped toffees from a 1980s confectionery tin is the base, buttery as you remember. And, just like in the good old days, that foundation is used to hang some extremely unsubtle hopping: enamel-stripping bitterness, packed with pine acidity. Grapefruit? It's not that delicate. Thankfully, the punches are sufficiently pulled on all fronts that it never becomes difficult to drink, though this is a closer approximation of the American IPAs I drank in the early-2000s than pretty much anything produced under the latter-day "west coast revival". It's fun, just like those old-timey hop-bombs were. Though, as such, it's a nice place to visit, but I'm quite glad that hop-forward beers have progressed since, and not everything in that genre tastes like this. I liked it, but more as a nostalgia trip than as a tasty beer. Approach it accordingly.

There we go. That's Bootstrap. I don't know if we'll be seeing more of their wares over here, but while they're no Odell, I welcome their presence in this era of hardened borders and inward-looking perspectives.

Scandi noir

There sure are a lot of those little white Brewski cans knocking around. Of course, a lot of them are IPAs, and since local breweries also produce IPAs in quantity, I have little interest in finding out if they do them differently in Sweden. Strong and dark, though? That's more my thing. I made a selection.

Starting small, at 7.5% ABV, is the black IPA Night Knocker. Immediate cosmetic points off here for it appearing brown when poured, and it's actually a clear ruby colour when held to the light. The head is great, though: tight and cream-like. There's a beautiful rosewater aroma with just a faint hint of burntness on the end of that. The flavour is on the subtle side, but all the correct attributes of the style are there. That floral effect is to the fore, deepening from pink petals into a dark fruit character: plump raisins and juicy plums meeting milk chocolate. Before it gets too sweet there's a pleasing poke of spritzy citric bitterness and a sprinkling of sharp roasted grain. Such complexity is short-lived, however, and it's the grapefruit element which forms the aftertaste. The texture, meanwhile, is smooth, and there's plenty of body to carry the flavour, with the alcohol well hidden. So despite the colour, this is pretty much on-point for a black IPA. The taste could maybe do with a general beefing-up -- more malt and hop flavour to match the intense bittering and roast -- but overall I was pretty happy with it. The Scandinavian thoroughness with regard to beer quality shows through.

It's imperial stouts from here on in. I don't make the rules. We start with Tuotsnav ("vanstouT"?), which is 11% ABV and has added vanilla beans. Your route-one sort of pastry stout, then. Full marks for the texture, right from the start: it's an ultra-smooth velvety charmer -- booze-sodden, sure, but not hot or unpleasant. There's space for lots of fun flavours, mostly on the sweet side, including chocolate sauce, cherry jam, pink marshmallow and sticky toffee. There's just enough toasty roast to balance that, making it a more manageable sort of extreme stout. I liked it. It surfs the curve between proper big stout and the silly confections of which there are too many nowadays. This is just different enough to qualify as its own thing. It's impressive how the vanilla draws other flavours out, rather than simply making it taste like custard, and they had no need to trouble a bourbon barrel. Nice work.

We finish with The Lift Off Game, a collaboration with Bottle Logic of California. Strawberry, chocolate and vanilla are what they've "enhanced" it with, and it's 12.5% ABV. Sticky mess? It smells like one, exuding hot jammy vapours and gooey toffee sauce. It's a chewer for sure, thick with syrupy residual sugar; tacky and unctuous. Amazingly it's not hot for all that: the flavour gives little indication of how much alcohol is involved. While the texture tells you immediately what you're dealing with, the taste is a bit more coy, opening on pink summer fruit, which I guess is the strawberry, but tastes more of raspberry to me. The dark malt follows quickly, starting on chocolate syrup and molasses, building out into mocha, coconut and moist fruitcake. It's an absolute dark beer extravaganza, delivering all the warmth and luxury that makes these beers the most popular among the terminally opinionated. Me? I'm a fan. Although the novelty factor is advertised front and centre, this is still a beer of nuance and complexity. Any clowning is of the well-trained variety, with not a foot wrong.

At €5 and under per can at Craft Central, I think this arbitrarily-chosen set of Brewski beers was worth the punt. The hoppy stuff comes with too much baggage, but strong and dark thumbs its nose at fussy freshness fetishists. I reckon I got a good deal here.

The pale stuff

I started a new year of beers in Monday's post about Rascals. Today, we're over the other side of Dublin 8, at the Guinness Open Gate Brewery. It had stayed open through January, and just at the very end, in time for the bank holiday, released two new pale ales.

Both are 5% ABV and the strikingly yellow one on the left is Earl Grey Pale Ale. They've done one of these before, back in 2019, and I enjoyed it more than most beers made with the citric tea that I've tried. It wasn't as shockingly pale as this one, though. Still, it's not thin: the substantial gravity sees to that. There's quite a welcome smoothness, in fact, with a gently cleansing sparkle. I couldn't taste tea, but it is citric, with a burst of fresh and summery lemon. That could easily be from hops alone so novelty-seekers may be disappointed with this. Don't expect any spicy, oily bergamot or floral whatnots. While lacking complexity, it's still a very tasty beer, and that's all that really matters. A nice nod to sunnier days ahead.

And speaking of sunny, I think Australian Sparkling Ale is a new style for the brewery. With scintillating imagination they've called theirs Fair Dinkum. It's a similar copper colour to the Cooper's archetype, though without an iota of haze. Having only experienced Cooper's Sparkling in bottle-conditioned form, I feel haze is a requisite. Maybe it's a different creature on draught. The aroma offers dry cereal, with a suggestion of sweet fruit: plum and sultana. I thought there would be a goodly measure of hop character in the flavour, but while there's a light bitterness, little more than a mildly dry rasp, that just feeds into the impression it gives of a saison. On top of the dry base there's soft peach and pear, finishing on a bite of black pepper. It's not what I expected, but it's still pretty decent, and makes up for any complexity missing from the previous beer. I'm tempted now to pick up a bottle of Cooper's to see how close they got.

Overall, it's quite a basic start to the year at the overgrown homebrew kit in St James's Gate. I'm hearing that things of a botanical nature are in the offing for the coming weeks. I will, of course, be reporting back on that when it materialises.

Fresh start

Here we go then. The new beers of 2026 start at the Rascals taproom at the beginning of February. Or rather, outside it. The bar and pizzeria in Inchicore was doing a roaring trade on bank holiday Sunday so I had to make do with a perch outside. That they're doing well in these straitened times gave me enough of a warm glow to offset the chill.

The long-running Pilot series is largely what we're about. Pilot #146: Belgian Dubbel is a little on the light side at just 6.8% ABV. It's pale too, more amber than the expected dark brown. First sip indicated that they've missed some targets here, and the gravity in particular. It's inappropriately thin, lacking malt weight and alcoholic warmth. The Belgian yeast did its job, however, delivering lots of esters, with red apple to the fore, followed by tannic raisin and sweet grape. It's a near miss. While not a bad beer, it offers so much of dubbel's fruity fun but without enough substance to make it properly enjoyable. But that's what pilot breweries are for. Hopefully somebody else noticed what went wrong and will fix it should they choose to scale up the recipe.

You wait forever for Dublin 8 to produce one pistachio stout then two come along at once. Open Gate's landed late last year, and here's Rascals with Pilot #148: Pistachio Stout. This is 6% ABV and quite light with it, plus I'm not sure there's any identifiable pistachio. Nuts, yes: there's a slightly earthy, peanut-butter effect, and a degree of hazelnut crunch, but with lots of vanilla too. Pistachio ice cream, maybe? I had hoped for a hefty, creamy stout, and this isn't that. But it's tasty. If you like your novelty beers low-key, and you should, this fits. It doesn't even need to be relegated to dessert, even if it's technically a smidge strong for session drinking.

Last up on draught was Bullseye Export, a supercharged version of the session-strength stout Rascals launched in 2024, boosting the ABV from 4% to 6.5%. Although that's only a tiny bit stronger than the previous beer, this one had the satisfying density that the other stout lacked -- and that's despite it being served carbonated rather than nitrogenated here. Its heady booze vapours added to the sense of something luxurious, and maybe a bit naughty. There's roast aplenty too, of the savoury, meaty sort. I was ready for a smack of old-world hop bitterness from the flavour, but it didn't go that way, unfortunately. In fact, it's quite sweet, giving further hazelnuts and lots of toffee and butterscotch. That turned it a bit cloying, and I think I dodged a bullet by not having nitro gloop to contend with as well. I'm sure it will have fans, but I'm not among them. It's not a bad beer and isn't offensive per se, just not how I prefer this kind of thing to be done.

Other commitments meant I didn't have time to finish with a glass of the new Mosaic IPA but I picked up a can before leaving. This is actually a 2025 release, having been around since August, apparently, but this the first time I've seen it. The Italian text on the can suggests it may be primarily for export. It was fresh, showing a packaging date of December and smelling magnificently of fresh fruit salad, which is exactly what I want when I see "MOSAIC" writ large on a can. The flavour follows logically from that, but intensifies it considerably. There's a powerfully punchy bitterness, more pith than flesh, finishing on a very west-coast rasp of pine acidity. In front of it, the pineapple and passionfruit are still there, albeit briefly. The bigness of the flavour is doubtless aided by its 6.3% ABV. It has a certain amount in common with that other Irish Mosaic showcase, Little Fawn, lacking that one's accessibility but making up for it in poke. It's clear and pale too, so is recommended to all the west coast revivalists out there. Since it seems to be in regular production, it would be nice if it were more available locally. We could do with a few more beers like this in circulation.

Is this the year my allegiances change from stout to IPA? That seems unlikely but it's still early days.

Saison of the which

Today's beer picks afforded me a rare opportunity to try different types of saison from the same brewery. I have a prejudice in favour of the lighter sort, though I know I've enjoyed plenty of the stronger ones. While this post isn't intended to settle the matter, it does give me something to drink. Rather than Belgium, the game is being played on neutral ground: the Bådin brewery in Norway.

First up is Saltstraumen, at 4.7% ABV: the standard, reasonable, sober sort of saison strength. There's no farmy murk here, it's a crystal-clear deep gold colour, with just the right amount of head. The aroma is subtle but definite, delivering gently sweet peach and apricot, with maybe a slightly sharper citrus note bringing up the rear. It really leans into that fruit in the flavour, the intensity rising to tinned lychee levels. It's nicely crisp too, with an assertive sparkle which doesn't get overly fizzy. It is a bit plain, however. I would have liked some spice or funk; a bit of the rustic wildness that the best saisons are generously endowed with. There's maybe a little dry woodiness in the finish which veers towards the peppery but doesn't quite qualify. Overall, there's a lovely refreshing quality, somewhere between a crisp pilsner and a refined pale ale. But while it's definitely a saison, and far from bland, it doesn't quite supply what I'm looking for in these. Perhaps more alcohol is required.

Saison Larsen is 6.5% ABV, which I would generally regard as a bit on the high side, though I'll also note it's identical in strength to Saison Dupont, with which there is not a thing wrong, saison-wise. We get a bit more haze here, so it's orange rather than golden, and the head retention is a bit off, the bubbles fading quickly to a patchy skim. The aroma is less distinct here: still fruity, but in a more generic estery way with a backing of alcohol, a bit like you'd find with a strong Belgian golden ale or tripel. The flavour is also that of an unmistakably strong Belgian-style ale. It tastes immediately hot, and when the fruit nudges past the alcohol it's syrupy. We're still in tropical or stonefruit territory, but the canned sort, not fresh. It's dry enough that it doesn't cloy the palate, but it's not dry by any means. As for spice and funk, I allowed it to warm up as much as I dared but very little was forthcoming. I'm not at all sure I would have pegged this as a saison at all were I not, y'know, conducting this stupid experiment. It's fine, but since it's both less complex and less refreshing than the previous beer, the winner is, literally, clear.

Neither of these delivered exactly what I want in a saison, but they're decent beers. More importantly, I think I'm right to consider big strength to be more of a flaw than a plus with this admittedly broad style. You heard it from me first.

Cryo me a River

Anyone who pays attention to trends within microbrewing will have noticed in recent years the explosion in variety of proprietary hop products. I don't think these assorted extracts and powders and boosters were ever meant to have a consumer-facing role, but brewers seem to love them, and love letting us know that they've used them. Does that get them a discount from the supplier? I wouldn't be surprised.

For my part, I can't help wondering if these enhancers actually enhance the beers in any real way. I've certainly never identified any pattern among them: which ones to look out for and which ones aren't worth the paper their patents were filed on. Rye River, however, has given us an opportunity for some objective evaluation. As "a bit of fun" the brewery made a small batch of its Big Bangin' IPA using Cryo Fresh™ Wet Hops from Yakima Chief, "the new frontier of freshness", designed to produce a just-harvested hop effect which you can deploy year-round. I don't drink enough fresh-hopped beers to put that claim to the test, but I was very interested to find out how this version differs from standard Big Bangin'. So, of course, I tasted them blind.

There's certainly a difference in appearance: one is very slightly hazy while the other is classically crystal clear. My immediate suspicion is the one that was more of a craft operation was left hazy, while the other is clear for the supermarket audience. The hazy boi had a magnificent aroma of pineapple and passionfruit, with a slight background tang of funky silage. All good clean hop fun. The other one has a much plainer smell. It's pleasantly spicy, with a hint of peppercorn and a fainter non-specific tropical fruit behind. Nothing wrong, but it doesn't compete with the other one at all. My initial loose suspicion began to tighten. 

I thought I'd start tasting with the clear one. It's recognisably Big Bangin', which is to say cracker-dry with a more pronounced tropical element than the aroma, turning savoury towards the end, with a rub of white onion. It lacks the intense punchy bitterness on which west coast IPAs built their reputation, but there is a certain acidic kick in the aftertaste which is sufficient to keep it within the style specs. My hazy friend, on the other hand, was strangely malty. I don't know where all the fruit from the aroma went. The hops are mostly doing bitterness here, which is properly west coast but a little disappointing after that fabulous technicolor aroma. Remember the funky silage? It's back in a big way here, balanced against a kind of marmalade or orange sweet side. I guess I was expecting something more New England, given the juice of the aroma, but I was definitely expecting a more intense flavour experience, and since I suspected this of being the cryo one.

And I was wrong. You may already know that from the accompanying photograph, but at time of writing I haven't taken it yet. The stand-out lesson is that standard Big Bangin' from my local Tesco is world class in the aroma stakes, and that's worth the price of admission (less with Clubcard) alone. The cryo stuff does enhance the taste, but not hugely. Importantly, it doesn't enhance the hop flavour, just the bitterness.

My main takeaway here is a new appreciation for standard Big Bangin'. Turns out there's not much that even the boffins at Yakima Chief can do to improve upon it.

Five stragglers

At time of writing, a bit over a week ago, there was still no sign of any new beers from Ireland's breweries in 2026. I'm sure that has changed by the time you read this. It's left me with a rump of a pale ale round-up that's been sitting in my drafts since I published the last one, at the beginning of December. Time to clear the decks. 

For its winter special, Hopfully has avoided all things dark and barrel-aged and given us a pale ale called Snowboard. It does have a bit of heft to it, 5.1% ABV being stronger than the norm for Ireland. It's quite a murky emulsion in the glass, the charmless beige-orange of earwax. Still, there's plenty of charm in the aroma: Columbus, Amarillo and Rakau are advertised, and its the New Zealander which comes out tops first, giving lots of fresh-cut grass and mineral oils, backed by milder citrus juice. The flavour is unexpectedly dank, coating the palate in delicious resins from the first sip. Fruit follows again, this time fresh-squeezed orange juice and tinned peaches. A typically hazy vanilla aspect manifests in the finish, alongside a tiny tang of the kerosene I found in the aroma. I might have liked a bit of bitterness here, but while the beer may not be balanced, exactly, it's still very tasty. Did we need yet another Ambush-a-like on the market? Probably not. But if we're going to get one regardless, I'm glad it's done this well. Props also to the student illustrator (Laurynas Butkus) who created the very cool label design, and of course to Hopfully for commissioning it. Putting named human artists front and centre in their branding, as they have always done, is even more of a noble act these days than it was when they started.

Wide Street has created a new edition of its 2021 black IPA, Neo-Noir, last seen here. There are several differences to the original, but the headline one is the inclusion of Amarillo as its main hop. The ABV has risen slightly, to 5%, and on pouring it turned out quite brown, unlike the previous version's pure black. Roasted grain at tar intensity is the aroma's most prominent feature, but there's a sizeable fresh hop buzz too, a spicy, slightly sulphurous leafy note. You get more of that hopping in the flavour, in a big way. The bittering is quite extreme: a hard resinous burn, and not the sort of thing I associate with zingy old Amarillo. Not that I'm complaining: I really enjoy this sort of aggressive black IPA. The acidity is mouthwatering, while the roast adds a gorgeous, savoury, barbecue seasoning. Maybe a little citrus sunshine would have lightened it nicely, but I'm happy in the dark. This is a connoisseur's black IPA, above entry level. More please.

From black to red, Hōne's is a red IPA from Irish brewing's Lazarus act, Eight Degrees. Named for an 18th century Maori politician with an affinity for the Irish, it's intended as an Irish red ale (a style whose roots are in IPA, as everyone knows) hopped with Rakau and Wakatu (formerly Hallertau Aroma) from New Zealand. 5.2% ABV is a bit beefy for an Irish red, but since most are dreadful watery affairs, that's fine by me. It's a clear, bright red colour with a thin skim of head. The aroma is a sweetly herbal red liquorice effect which is exactly what I expect from red IPA. It's not sticky, however. In fact, the mouthfeel is remarkably light, bringing it in danger of being watery, like a real Irish red. That has a knock-on effect on the hops, muting them. I don't really get the grass and minerals of German-derived Kiwi hops, just a fairly generic tang, reminding me most of the darker sort of English bitter which, again, is where the Irish red style is rooted. This is decent but inoffensive stuff. I definitely expected more poke: red IPAs tend to go big on the caramel malts and big on the resinous hops, a combination I have often found difficult to enjoy. This is mellower, which is good, but doesn't bring enough flavour from either side of the equation to be properly enjoyable. If you'd told me in advance that it's like a red IPA but less extreme, I'd have been all in favour. Now that I have it in front of me, I can see why cranking up the volume knob makes these, if not better, then at least more interesting. It's well-intentioned but I'm not a fan.

I'm throwing an American-style wheat beer into this lot because, meh: close enough, and I don't know where else to put it. This is IBU American Wheat, a recent addition to a range Rye River brews for Tesco. A decade or so ago the brewery began making one of these, at the exact same 5% ABV, for Lidl. My review at the time shows that one as quite an amber colour, though more recent photos online indicate that it has become paler in the meantime. This one is definitely pale, so I'm assuming it's the same beer you can buy at Lidl, and that the recipe has changed enough since 2016 to justify me writing about it again.

A fresh and zesty aroma starts things off well. It has a lovely soft and rounded texture, exactly the sort of thing one hopes to get when wheat is involved. 5% ABV is perhaps strong for a supermarket own-brand, but as usual, there's nothing basic or compromised about the way Rye River makes them. That strength is put to good use creating the body, and also driving the flavour. It tastes full-on pithy: powerfully citric, though more lemon than grapefruit. It stops short of turning harsh, the wheat once again helping, softening the bitterness while leaving the flavour intact. Towards the finish, the lemon turns to candy, adding a sweeter aspect which improves its drinkability. The end result is a characterful crowd-pleaser, not especially complex, but delivering bright and fresh American hops in a streamlined and accessible way. This seems to be a thoroughly unfashionable beer style these days, which is a shame because it's a lovely twist on pale-and-hoppy. Fair play to Rye River who, with their own-label Coastal and Backwaters, now has four of them on the Irish market on a permanent basis. Quality beats fashion every time.

Finally for today, Symmetry is the newest west coast IPA from Galway Bay. It's 6.7% ABV, which I don't consider strong enough to warrant the mandated 33cl serve at The Beer Temple, but I'm sure they know what they're doing. It's properly transparent, so earns west coast points there, but is also surprisingly juicy in the foretaste, like orangeade, with a soft texture. The bitterness arrives only gradually as it goes along, though it's properly to style, with the right amount of punchy grapefruit and pine spice. It's enjoyable, but I would have preferred something a bit sharper and more mouthwatering. That's nitpicking, however. It's an enjoyable beer, and I would have liked a pint of it, had that been on the menu.

There we are now. Mostly. I did single out one other beer, originally intended for this post, to give it some special treatment. Stay tuned for that on Wednesday.

The local crowd

I watch with envy as DOT Brew pours interesting-looking new beers at faraway festivals. I must make do with what they put on the local market, including these two.

Dublin Dime is presumably named for its 5% ABV and is the latest in a long sequence of barrel-aged pale ales created for the Teeling distillery gift shop. It poured a clear bright orange colour at first, murking up when the tail end of the can was poured in. The aroma is zesty and lime-like, an effect which can be attributable to American hops and bourbon barrels, and I suspect both are involved here. It foamed heavily so I was expecting excessive carbonation, but it's surprisingly soft, with a fine and gentle sparkle. The base beer is a sweetly fruity one, with colourful Skittle and Starburst flavours. That's given a more grown-up edge by a lacing of vanilla oak and a slight sharpness which, again, could be either hop bittering or bourbon souring, but may well be both in tandem. It's not obviously barrel-aged, and I'm not sure I would have even noticed were it not how the beer presents itself, but the wood has been used judiciously, to add a subtle complexity rather than the honkingly loud effect found in too many bourbon-aged beers. This is a very decent offering, bringing a small ray of summer sunshine to a dismal winter day.

DOT has a regular strong red ale called Rum Red Dark, reaching version twenty by last year. Something in the programming seems to have changed now, because while this red ale is labelled as batch twenty-one in what appears to be the same sequence, its name is Big Base. I guessed there was no rum involved, and it turns out there are no barrels at all: this is the base beer which will eventually become the next Rum Red Dark. Like the pale ale, it's foamy, overflowing the generously-sized glass I put it in. The body is very dark: more brown than red, and could pass for black. The aroma is a little sickly, all toffee and butterscotch, but the flavour balances that with a drier roasted quality and some berry sharpness, suggesting redcurrant and raspberry. Its ABV is a whopping 10.2% and that's well hidden. While this is no easy-drinker, it's not a hot mess either, and it's the roast intensity which makes it a sipper, not the booze. I enjoyed it, but equally I can see how it would be enhanced by barrel-ageing. There's enough character in the base to mean it won't change drastically, while there's still room for some oaky spirit fun to be clipped on. I will keep an eye out for Rum Red Dark XXI.

Two solidly decent beers from DOT here. The brewery can be relied upon to give us the goods in the strong and barrel-aged space, even if not everything they create makes it into circulation in Dublin.

Old reliable

Today's beer, Death & Taxes, is a black lager which was suitcased to Dublin by Jay Brooks, from California, where it was brewed by Moonlight Brewing. I'm very happy with the choice of style.

It looks like a good example, too, showing a little bit of heft at 5.3% ABV, presenting dense and shiny-black with a beautifully Germanic café-crème head. The aroma is quite sweet, hints of cola and caramel giving me Czech vibes. It's thoroughly lager-clean, even though the body is full, stout-like, and almost chewy. I thought that would mean a big kick of malt, but there's almost no foretaste at all, and for a second I feared it was going to be bland. The flavour was merely delayed, however, and after a couple of seconds there's a wave of burnt grain and sharp mineral hops -- exactly the sort of thing you get from good German Schwarzbier. 

That's pretty much it. Nothing fancy, or silly, happens, and that's generally for the best with lagers, I reckon. The brewery might be a long way from Schwarzbier's natural home, but whoever put this recipe together knew a thing or two about brewing them properly. The result is pure, clean and wholesome dark beer fun. Cheers Jay!

The whips of winter

As usual, the breweries of Ireland collectively slowed the pace of new release beers for the month of January. Luckily, beer squirrel that I am, I had built up a collection of Whiplash's late-2025 offerings to tide me over until the kettles were fired up once more.

A number of local breweries have taken turns in making a Christmas special for the Molloy's off licence chain, and it was Whiplash's go last year. As usual, it's a simple and accessible pale ale, this one 5.2% ABV and given the grand title Winter Hymnal. In defiance of fashion, it's very pale and very clear, with a classic aroma of gently lemony American hops. The gravity is high enough to give it a decent malt substance and quite a sweet character. The hops manifest as lemon curd or candy, soft rather than sharp, despite the "west coast" claim on the label. Don't expect much else: this is an uncomplicated beer, to say the least. It's far from bland, however, and beautifully clean. As usual with these Molloy's beers, they're sort of thing you can lay in for a party and keep all the beer drinkers happy. Or most of them, at least.

Belgian pale ale isn't a style we see much of from local breweries, but Lace Ritual is one such: a collaboration with Belgian-themed Atlanta brewery Bold Monk. It poured clearer than I would have expected for both the style and the producer, turning out a happy sunset gold with plenty of fine white foam on top. The ripe, almost foetid, fruit of the aroma tells us we're in Belgian territory from the get-go. The low carbonation level was the next surprise: the gas must have all gone into the head. That does lower the Belgian quotient a little. The flavour is bitter at first, a pithy bite striking early. This softens after a moment, adding sweet orange segments and a floral complexity, like jasmine and/or honeysuckle (it's been a while since I had a good sniff of a flower garden). The bitter side returns in the end: a little herbal and a little minerally. A nicely full body helps carry all this, though more active condition would have helped too. I've complained recently about Whiplash beers lacking boldness of flavour, and while this could be accused of that, I think the subtlety is in its favour, and it's far from bland. Refreshingly different and very decent, is my assessment. Thanks, presumably, are due to the collaborating partner for taking this out-of-the-ordinary approach to pale ale.

The inevitable hazy IPA in the set is Dream State, a collaboration with English brewery Floc. It's the beige sort of hazy, with a handsome head of loose bubbles on top. Tropical juice features in the aroma, a sweet mix of mango, passionfruit and pineapple derived from Galaxy, Citra, Motueka and Nelson Sauvin. The flavour is clean, but a little plain. I get coconut rather than tropical fruit as its centrepiece, which is dessert of a different sort. Apricot and red apple sits behind this, and little of Nelson's flinty spice. Although it's heavy, and shows all of its 6.5% ABV, it's clean with it, and quite easy to drink. As usual for recent hazy Whiplash efforts, I would have liked bigger and louder regarding the hops, and there's nothing very special here: nothing distinctive or justifying the presence of the visiting brewers. Not all beers of this sort are bang average -- some are actively terrible, others sublime -- but this one is the epitome of fine. I'm of the opinion that there are so many hazy IPAs knocking around that they really need to do something distinctively excellent to be worthwhile. This one doesn't, alas. 

Yet another hazy double IPA follows. Down to the Well is the typical Whiplash 8.2% ABV, though not the typical Whiplash colour, being a dun shade of beige, rather than luminous yellow. The aroma is spiky and bitter, suggesting hop dregs or even raw cones. Azacca and Amarillo have been used, and I thought they would have given it a sweetly fruitsome flavour. Instead, it's bitterness first, thanks presumably to the third hop, Chinook. That's coupled with a heavy texture and lots of heat, two more things that are out of character for the brewery. More subtle mango and cantaloupe arrives late in proceedings, but has to share space with a waxen bite and a teeth-squeaking pithiness. The whole is a bit too hot and soupy for my liking. Drink it cold to make it manageable.

I wasn't sorry to be leaving the hoppy section behind. Whiplash isn't playing a good haze game these days. We move on to the much more enjoyable genre of stout. Shepherd's Warning is an oatmeal and coffee job, with regular coffee-dealing collaborator, 3FE. The roast is off the charts in the aroma, beyond coffee and into full-on carvery: beefy, with deliciously charred edge pieces. The flavour is still centred on coffee, but lighter and more, well, coffee-like. Coupled with a creamy texture, the main taste is that of coffee cake icing, or a coffee-cream filled chocolate: much more sweet and oily than dry and roasty. There's little room left for the beer in that, but I don't mind. Roast is roast, and too many coffee stouts allow the beans to fade into the stout background. That very much doesn't happen here, and it runs a contrary risk of being too coffeeish instead. I liked that about it. It's bold, unapologetic, and makes superb use of both the added ingredient and its blousey 7.5% ABV. One could level a fair accusation that it's nothing but a novelty beer, but few coffee novelties are this colourful, or enjoyable. The coffee isn't a seasoning here, it demands your full attention, and deserves to be given it.

The strength goes up to 8% ABV for Dying Again, though it's in the somewhat plainer style of export stout. It looks great, though: pouring thickly with a very dark tan-coloured head. The aroma is coffee, but much less pronounced than in the previous one, obviously. There's a little buttery toffee too, suggesting it's going to be sweet. But while it is dense with unfermented malt sugars, they've given it a serious dose of hops -- old world, I assume -- for that wonderful balancing kick of vegetal bitterness. I always think of beers like this as a window into stout before the big multinationals eroded it into the anodyne, mass-market beverage it became in the 20th century. This is stout from when it was, well, stout. Atin' and drinkin' in it, to redeploy the horribly over-used Irish beer cliché. After the initial rush of molasses and zinc, there's a gentler summer fruit and meadow flower perfume. It doesn't need complexity, but they've given it some anyway. All told, it's a damn solid, straight up and down, thoroughly proper export stout. Why isn't this the fashion, instead of hazy IPA?

I eagerly await the 2026 releases from Whiplash, especially if there are more big stouts.

Herd impunity

I'm long past due getting some more Western Herd beers on here. I happened across these two recently, though both have been around for a couple of years already.

Presumably aimed at the local crowd, County Clare pale ale was a long way from home when I picked it up in Mace on the South Circular Road. This is a pintable 4.2% ABV and attractively clear and golden, like pale ale used to be. The hops are Citra, Simcoe and Idaho 7 which had me expecting a west coast punch to the face, but the aroma is subtle and more tropical than citrus: a fruit salad, heavy on the pineapple and white grape. So goes the flavour too, the grape quality strong enough to make me wonder if some Hallertau Blanc sneaked into the kettle late on. Depth and complexity are not really features, however, and after the initial juicy pop it all fades away cleanly. There's a deft trick in the way it's refreshing and very easy drinking without being watery or plain. I got through my 440ml can quickly and was ready for another straight afterwards. The flavour profile, branding and general quality makes this a beer that every pub in the Banner should be clamouring to pour.

A poorly-rendered AI image of a circus strongman introduces An Beilgeach Láidir -- The Strong Belgian. This is Western Herd's take on Belgian dark ale, a powerhouse at 8.3% ABV. Though a dark red-brown in the glass, it's surprisingly clear, showing amber when held to the light. The alcohol is very apparent from the get-go, starting with its rum-and-raisin aroma. It doesn't taste Belgian to me. Though it is sweet and fruity, there's a cleanness at its centre, devoid of the estery characteristics of Belgian fermentation. I don't mind, and quite like it. I get a sense of English strong ale, or barley wine, from a continental European brewer which isn't copying the style in the hop-forward American way. Fruitcake and chocolate meet trifle and summer berries for a multidimensional dessert character, plus a little port or madeira oakiness. The carbonation is low, and while the body is suitably dense to accentuate the sweet side, it doesn't get cloying. Instead it has the easy going nature of a light Burgundy, or one of the paler kind of Italian red wines. While it works as a winter beer for sure, I could see it having a summer application also.

Two very different beers, here, but the quality is superb in both.

Mos’ Delft

Following on from Monday's post about New Year in The Hague, I also did a mini pubcrawl in Delft, the charming historic town at the city's edge. I've been here a couple of times before, but always seemed to miss its top-flight beer destinations. This time I was better prepared and ticked off a couple of new venues.

Delftse Brouwers plies its trade at Delfts Brouwhuis, with an extensive draught list of seemingly brewed-in-house beers. We started dark. For me, on the left, is Plagende Pestvogel (charming), the black IPA. It's properly black with a tan, stout-like head of fine bubbles. The aroma is a magnificent mix of rosewater and dark chocolate, just how I like 'em. 6.9% ABV gives it a heavy and smooth texture, another stout-like feature, but the flavour doesn't follow that. It's flowers and chocolate again, a little sweeter than the aroma suggested, so milk rather than dark. There's some candied red fruit too: strawberry and raspberry flavouring, finishing dry. More of a roast bite would have been nice, likewise a proper citrus bittering, but as a sweet example of the style, it does an excellent job. Any halfway decent black IPA will do, in this era of scarcity.

I was intrigued by an imperial porter called Tsarina Esra, remembering that De Molen made one such, way back in the day. Turns out its creator moved from there to here and brought the recipe with him. It's still 10.1% ABV. The aroma gives little away, just a hint of syrupy dark sugar. Syrupy goes the texture too, with a matching molasses and treacle flavour, laced with strong coffee and medicine-cabinet herbs. A bite of black liquorice finishes it off. For all its thickness and heft, there's not a whole lot going on in it. Herself noted that it's a good base for barrel ageing, but is rather plain in this unaugmented form.

Round two brought me Bubbelende Bonobo, described as a champagne tripel, which made it enough of a curiosity for me to order. It's pale gold and mostly clear, and strong for tripel at 11% ABV, presumably due to ravenous champagne yeast. The aroma is oddly sweet, with ripe banana, which I wasn't expecting. That stays in the flavour, though it's definitely dry, sort of like those desiccated banana crisps. Behind this lurks a spirit heat, burning a clean blue flame, and the finish is dry and cracker-crisp. It's an odd beast, missing the comforting soft warmth of tripel, and presenting sharper, more angular, fruit flavours instead. The crisp finish is another twist, and presumably is what the brewer set out to achieve. Full marks for creativity, then, but it's not great as a tripel. Clean around all the banana and you just make it more sickly and cloying. This is an interesting experiment, but not a successful one, in my opinion.

From the bottom end of the guest beer list comes Iced Coffee Connaisseur [sic], Moi? by Dutch Bargain, an 18% ABV icebock with cinnamon and pistachio. Fun fact: 25cl is the default measure; you need to specify (we didn't) if you want the saner 15cl pour. This is stout-black and smells like the inside of a Mon Cheri chocolate liqueur sweet: phwoar! The flavour continues fully in that line. Sweet and slightly salty milk chocolate, hot cherry liqueur, a bonus marzipan richness, and a dusting of drier cocoa powder. It's so rich and smooth I need to upgrade the analogy from supermarket Ferraro candy to high-end rum babas by the sort of Belgian chocolatier who operates from a shop with their name over the door. This is a magnificent confection and, while it's sticky and slow-drinking, there were no complaints about the measure received.

At Café de Wijnhaven I was caught off guard by 't Preuvenemint, number 6 in the Wijlre's Specials series from Heineken's Brand brand. They've advertised it as a grape ale, so it was a surprise to get a big hit of rasher smoke from the first sip: the summer wildfires must be really affecting the crop here. The flavour is dominated by the harsh, kippery smoke of many a poorly-conceived rauchbier, and I found that difficult to get past. The texture is soft, and I detected a similarly-soft fruit character in the distant background, but I would be hard pressed to pin grape on that. This is not subtle, and was hard work to drink. The texture is horribly thin for 7% ABV, leaving a finish of fishy water that I doubt anyone enjoys. While a brave move for a multinational, it's not a good beer. Advertise the smoke up front, for one thing. I still would have ordered it and been disappointed, but it might have saved some civilians an unpleasant experience.

Back in The Hague, I also had a smattering of beers for hotel-room drinking: especially useful as the weather worsened ahead of the regional shutdown which extended our trip by one extra day and one extra country.

It's not often I find a new beer from Amsterdam's Moortgat-owned 't IJ, but here was IJndejaars, a 9% ABV winter ale they have apparently been making for years but which I'd never seen before. The visuals look a bit wet and weedy: a thin amber colour, topped  by a mere skim of shortlived bubbles. It looks cheap. There's a plums-and-raisin fruitcake aroma, while the flavour is dryer, adding breadcrust and black tea, for a kind of barmbrack effect. It's as light as tea, too, and I would never have guessed the strength: there's no chewiness to the malt nor warmth from all that alcohol. This is plain fare. I remember when clean beers were not 't IJ's forte. Since the takeover, they've added a lot of polish and poise to their recipes, but this one takes it a little too far. I could have done with some amateurish, home-brew-like fuzz in it: strong and dark beers don't need precision in the way lighter and paler ones do. This feels a little too corporate and processed, with a lack of warmth which is fatal to any purported winter beer.

A random supermarket pick got me Jopen's Triple to the Tropics, an IPA of 9.5% ABV, though an innocent hazy yellow colour. The promise of a "tropical fruitbomb" is fully delivered upon. The flavour here is a sugary mix of concentrated mango, passionfruit and pineapple, with the booze element strong enough that it could pass as a sticky Mediterranean liqueur. And that's it, really. No bitterness is mentioned, and none is delivered. Sweet fruity booze is your lot. On the one hand, I quite enjoyed the clean, one-dimensional, simplicity; but on the other I thought that if beer is going to go for the big numbers strengthwise, shouldn't there be a complexity of flavour which comes with that? It's quite an exotic delight that a triple IPA was being sold in a supermarket at all: that's a sign of a mature beer market. At the same time, this is supermarket-grade triple IPA: good, but basic, with no individual characteristics. If someone had thrown it in the shopping basket because it's the sort of thing I like, I wouldn't object, although it's not something I would have purposefully chosen for myself again. Good on Jopen for continuing to brew such adventurous crowd-pleasers, and selling them to the big retail multiples.

Via The Hague's specialist beer off licence FreeBeer, one from Espiga. Black Break is pitched as an Irish stout. For that, it's a broadly correct 4.5% ABV, but it's heavy for it, feeling properly creamy from the can. It's a bitter chap, combining an assertive dark roast -- ristretto coffee and high-cocoa chocolate -- with the green bitterness of boiled cabbage and spinach. There's no sweet side to balance that, and I don't think it's missed. This is Irish stout just the way I like it: austerely bitter with fully tasteable old-world hops; dry all the way through, with a spark of galvanised steel. Mwah! I don't think I've ever encountered this sort of profile at such a low strength; I didn't think it was possible, but I'm all in favour of more if it. Irish brewers have something to learn from what the Catalans have done here.

The Rott brewery of Rotterdam is so pleased with its name, it appends it to all of its beers. I only had the one: Rott.Eclipse, an imperial stout. Nothing fancy has gone into it or been done to it, and it's 10.2% ABV. The flavour centres on big chocolate, smooth and luxurious, and perfectly balanced between sweet and bitter. There's a little coffee and a hint of cherry fruit too, the extra complexities borne up on a heady cloud of alcohol vapours. That's really all I have to say about it. It's a classy number, and very typical of the kind of excellent imperial stouts that Dutch breweries produce. It's a beer to properly relax and unwind with.

Rotterdam was one of the cities we passed through while making our escape via Brussels. For train drinking, I brought Bird of Prey from Uiltje. This is another of their IPAs, 5.8% ABV, and constructed very much in the old-school American way. Which is to say, it's almost clear and smells of concentrated citrus: grapefruit and lime. The bitterness hits first in the flavour, a tongue-pinching pine resin. The pithy fruit gives it a zingy middle, fading gradually to reveal the malt base, leaving quite a retro caramel finish. The brewery makes no claims to west-coastism, and indeed the can copy mentions hazy and tropical. It is sweeter than a full-on west coast IPA but I think the flavour profile is closer to that than New England. That's a good thing, and it's an enjoyable beer. Not one to be overlooked just because it's ubiquitous and produced by a big brewing conglomerate.

That was it for this trip. I recommend The Hague and Delft as beer destinations, though I'm now more wary than I was about going there in the depths of winter. Being snowed in, even for a day, isn't as much fun as it might sound.