Order on the chaos

Zichovec Pivovar is one of those European breweries with a vast array of beers on sale in my neck of the woods, so I get to pick what looks interesting from their range. Here are three that caught my eye.

For starters, Sea Buckthorn and Ginger Gose. I'm not generally convinced by sea buckthorn as a beer ingredient; I don't think it does much. Ginger, though? And salt and juniper? Irresistible. I had no idea what it would look like, so was surprised to see it pouring opaque and orange from the half-litre can, like a glass of breakfast juice. There's a herbal bath-bomb spice to the aroma, as well as a suggestion of sourness. Only 4.6% ABV means it's light, and my word it's refreshing. What was meant to be a first sip cleared the top third of the glassful. Neither spice nor salt are domineering, but they're both present, and perfectly balanced. There's a gentle sparkle and a light kettle-sour tang on the end. Imagine Tangfastics or similar sour candy, but without the sugary gumminess, just all the zing. I still don't get what the sea buckthorn is contributing, but the salt and ginger are obvious without being overly loud, and I think I can taste the herbal bitterness of the juniper too. It's the combined effect that takes this beyond gimmick into a genuinely worthwhile recipe for a light summer beer which bears copying. Serve cold and quaff heartily.

Of course I had to include an IPA, and of course it was going to be the west-coast New Zealand-hopped one: Sauvin Attack. This was a day past its best-before when I drank it, but since that's only six months after packaging, I'm not too concerned. There's a little too much haze in this pale gold job, making me question its coastal credentials from the outset. The aroma is intact, though I will admit it may have been better when fresh. There's still plenty of flinty white wine and a softer layer of honeydew and kiwi fruit. 6.5% ABV should mean it's a good bit heavier than the last beer, and it does have extra density, but like the gose, it's maddeningly moreish, begging to be thrown back in one or two gulps. Again it's the balance of flavours that does it, tasting firmly and distinctly of tropical fruit, cool cut grass and a twist of citrus peel, but dovetailed together with a precision which means nothing is too dominant or lost in the mix. The carbonation is exactly enough to bring the flavours to life while avoiding making the beer gassy or sharply carbonic. I might question the style claim a bit. As well as the haze, it's softer and fruitier than west coast IPA should be by rights; the bitterness is dialled back and you can forget any caramel malt. Taxonomic quibbles aside, though, it's utterly delicious and shows off Nelson Sauvin brightly and cleanly, despite being less than completely fresh.

My working theory is that the brewery comes from a lager culture and probably employs mostly lager-trained brewers, so precision and top-end drinkability come as standard. So the next beer would be a challenge. Though our ABV remains at 6.5%, the gravity leaps from 14° to 18° for 13 Years of Innovation, so I was already expecting it to be sweet before I noticed there's vanilla in it. That's with coconut, black cherry and raspberry, so no surprise that it's purple. That summer fruit combination is front and centre in the aroma, all candy rather than real tart berries. Unsurprisingly, the texture is creaminess, and although it claims to be "double sour" it's barely sour at all. The vanilla isn't quite at ice cream levels, but it's not far off, and serves merely to accentuate the fruit sweetness rather than make the beer taste of actual vanilla. The raspberry presents as pink sauce, of course. You do get cherry, and there's coconut too. And yet... I've drank a fair few beers like this, from the central and eastern part of out fair continent, and this is one of the cleaner, crisper examples. It's sweet, but not sticky with it, and while it doesn't have the amazing drinkability of the other two, it could have been much, much worse, given the spec. That's a win.

They're all wins. I've come out of this sampling session with a new respect for the Zichovec hussle. I will be buying more of their wares before long; fresh ones too, following the recent branding update. It was remiss of me to not include a lager in this lot. That will be corrected next time, if I remember.

Together alone

I'm all in favour of small breweries diverging from the ubiquitous craft styles, but a Rotbier, Rascals? I'm not, generally, a fan of Nuremberg's totemic red lager. This example at the Rascals taproom, Pilot #155, is 5.2% ABV and immediately departs from the Franconian standard by being a gorgeous clear shade of copper. Clean look, clean taste: primarily crisp with a hint of near-Schwarzbier toasted grain. Only then does the caramel and red liquorice creep in, and while that taste profile does not make me jump for joy, it's subtle enough here to be non-problematic. Hooray for non-problematic. This has just the right balance of unusual features versus standard well-made lager. I had a couple of pints on the terrace on a sunny Friday afternoon and I can tell you it is exceptionally well suited to that use case. Down at the Altstadt they could pick up a few tips from this.

York brewery Brew York had not crossed my path before, though they've been in business for ten years. As part of the birthday celebrations it collaborated with Rascals on a New England IPA called Kindred Flame. It's a middle-of-the-road 5.7% ABV and only wanly hazy, going for witbier translucency over beaten-egg emulsion. Both aroma and flavour, to my mind, lean more to the west coast. Azacca, El Dorado, Krush and Mosaic are tropical-candy hops one and all, yet there's a sharp Citra-like bite at the front of the flavour here, all lime peel and lemon zest. It's slightly softer behind this, but soft like lemon meringue pie, rather than juicy mango or pineapple. It's not a bad beer, by any means, but doesn't taste like a high-end hazy IPA for the joyless grumps who idolise Trillium and The Alchemist. You know the sort. I'd like to say it's a best-of-both-worlds situation, but I would prefer if it went one way or the other. This middle space, vanilla-but-citric, is a little lacking in positive attributes. It's fine, but a guest-assisted birthday beer ought to be more impressive.

It seems Rascals is at its creative best when left to noodle on its own pilot kit. Maybe if Brew York came over, they might learn about making interesting beer.

Drinkhana

The market for independent beer may have contracted somewhat, but the breweries can still put on a show. A couple of weeks ago the Dublin Beer Festival returned to the Ring Hall in the RDS's horsey bits for a third year, with an impressive array of beers from local and foreign breweries. There was much new and rare to be discovered, so let's begin.

For me, the beginning was O'Hara's and Le Chéile, a lager. I was interested to see "Brewed in Dundalk" on the tap badge. O'Hara's has taken ownership of the former Pearse Lyons brewery and is running it in parallel with Bagenalstown, as predominantly a lager brewery. This New Zealand-hopped pilsner bodes well for the plans, showcasing the Nelson Sauvin and Riwaka beautifully, from a powerful mown-grass aroma, to a flavour packed out with peppery spice and dank resins. 6% ABV gives it plenty of heft, though without any malt sweetness interfering with the hop explosion. Magnificent stuff, and well capable of giving the high-end west-coast IPAs a run for their money.

In sharp contrast, O'Hara's also brought a new Hazelnut Brown Ale, 5% ABV and served nitrogenated. This was somewhat less successful, being a gloopy, sticky affair, loaded up with cloying hazelnut syrup. It has very little to offer beyond the intense sweetness, and while it does taste of nut, it's very much processed and candified. It goes without saying that the nitrogen helps none of this, though it does mean there's little by way of aroma, which is probably a mercy. It compares particularly badly with the pilsner that preceded it, but even without that, I don't think it would have been to my taste.

More lager was needed. I didn't realise that Lough Gill releases an annual Octoberfest beer, and this was my first time encountering it. It's good. There's nothing off-kilter about this pale golden 5.5% ABV job. It has superb balance between the slightly souped-up chewy malt base and fresh salad-leaf hopping with a spinach level of green bittering. The süffig drinkability is helped by a lightly tannic iced-tea note in the finish, keeping the experience supremely clean. This seems like a beer that has been honed; it takes effort and skill to make a lager so casually delicious.

Rye & Coopers is a newly arrived contract brewer, seemingly making in-roads into lots of normal, non-specialist, pubs in Dublin. Good luck to them with that. That has mostly been with a lager, but there's a second beer too, called Gypsy Tongues. Initial marks off for the dreadful AI-generated tap badge, and for the reluctance to name Brehon Brewhouse as the place of production. But the beer is decent, as one would expect from Brehon. It's a straightforward hazy pale ale of 4.5% ABV, leading on vanilla, following through with tropical fruit and exiting on a mild tang of bitterness for balance. There's nothing unusual or exciting here, but absolutely no off-flavours or upsetting surprises. If the intention is to have some by-the-pint fruity haze for the pub, then they've gone about it in exactly the right way.

I didn't go especially all-in on the big beers, but wasn't going to pass by Saturnalia, an old ale from Eight Degrees. It's genuinely old too, having started as a barley wine a couple of years ago, then left to mature. The result is 12% ABV and a gorgeously smooth luxury dessert of a beer, exuding vanilla, butter and a scattering of plump raisins. The undisguised booze gives it a heavy Pedro Ximínez vinous quality, the sweet side balanced by a considerable dose of tannin. It all works harmoniously well together, doubtless due to the extra time it's had in the tank. Sadly, this all goes to Italy. It's a shame that a few nip bottles aren't left behind for Irish drinkers.

It was a pleasant surprise to find a veritable rake of new beers from Trouble Brewing. I began with Easy, a 4% ABV pale ale served on cask. It's a hazy one; light and pithy, with medium dank and a hint of garlic. The brewery does not want us to think of it as a junior version of its flagship Ambush, but I couldn't shake that impression. This has a lot in common with Gypsy Tongues above, being simple and accessible, and well built for session drinking, especially in smooth cask form.

The next one is also intended to be easy: a 4.2% ABV German-style pilsner called Alibi. They say it's unfiltered yet it's flawlessly clear, with almost the greenish tone I associate with Jever. It's not quite as full-on as that hop monster, but isn't far off it, tasting strongly of lawn clippings but not going overboard with it. There's a significant crisp edge as well, giving it a mineral-water character, which complements the hops well. Maybe a little more malt flavour would have made it more interesting, but at the same time, this beer is all about the drinkability, and it's a very quaffable affair altogether. It's not complex, but has just enough to hold one's interest as it slakes one's thirst.

They don't describe True Stereo as a west coast IPA, and at 5.1% ABV it's maybe a bit light to genuinely be one, but it certainly leans in that direction. It's clear and golden with lots of hard pithy bitterness from the combination of Simcoe and Centennial hops. And it tastes as clean as it looks, with nothing interfering with the sharp crispness the hops bring. A bit one-dimensional? Maybe. But with clean pale ale like this a rarity these days, that's not a problem. There are much worse dimensions it could be showing us.

Lastly from Trouble, a dunkel lager called Pull the Smiles Inside. It's a bit of a lightweight at just 4.8% ABV but hits the important style points well. It's big-boned and chewy, delivering the requisite flavours of bourbon biscuit, chocolate and roasted grains. That the recipe was created for, and was successful in, a home brewing competition, isn't in the least surprising. I often find the real thing to be a little too hop-forward, detracting from the dark malt fun. This is dunkel done the way I like it, however.

The other brewery bar I spent a bit of time at was Blarney Brewing. We don't see their beer in Dublin and I'm almost never in Cork these days, so it was good to have the opportunity to give some of the beers a once-over.

By pale lager shall ye measure them, and Blarney's flagship is the 4.3% ABV Hydro. It's designed to be clean and easy-drinking pub fare, and is a little lacking in character as a result. I reckon it resembles Czech pale lager most closely, and has a touch of the golden syrup aspect they show. The texture is soft and there's a mineral crispness at the centre, though little malt and virtually no hop. It's refreshing, but very much not pitched at the geek audience.

Squared - Blood Orange is more for the likes of us. This is part of a series of limited edition IPAs and claims to be west coast style, though the addition of fruit syrup is a bit off for that, as is the mere 5.5% ABV. Still, the pale amber colour fits, as does the strongly dank hop aroma and foretaste. It finishes dry and I almost didn't find the orange. It arrives at the very end and is respectful of the hops, not adding any sticky sugariness, as I feared it might. It's more of a seasoning than a tacked-on flavour. It all works rather well, providing good complexity centred on tasty American hops, in a pub-strength package. Nice.

A different limited series uses Blarney's hogshead-sized pilot kit, and on tap here was Moxee!, a session IPA of 4.6% ABV, single-hopped with El Dorado. I wasn't too impressed by this, and I blame the strength. It's thin and fizzy, and lacks any proper hop impact. El Dorado should be presenting a multicoloured fruit candy effect, but there's none of that here. There's clean and pubby, and then there's just bland. I'm afraid this one fell a bit too much on the latter side.

Onwards! Just one beer from Kildare's Dew Drop brewery, a Motueka-hopped IPA called Far Side, because New Zealand, obvs. I don't have much to say about this one either, unfortunately. It's a simple and harmless sort of murk; 5.2% ABV, and although it boasts of being double dry-hopped, that's extra meaningless here, as it doesn't taste especially hop-forward. Garlic is more prominent than any of the herbs or fruit I would expect Motueka to bring. Add a smear of vanilla and you have something very ordinary, done all the time by lots of different breweries. I'm sure it sells but it doesn't make for very interesting drinking.

The Kinnegar stand is where I finished my evening's drinking. They had another new pilsner, called Day Skipper. I'm not sure how this differs from their core-range Donegal Lager, though it's very slightly stronger at 4.7% ABV. And typical of Kinnegar, it's precision-brewed to be clean and balanced, with a harmonious mix of crisp biscuit malt and a gentle noble-hop celery bitterness. It's light-bodied without being thin, and has a soft texture reminiscent of the kind of lager you get from a side-pour tap in Czechia. I don't know where they're sending it after the festival, but I wish it well.

And the last beer is the latest in Kinnegar's regular limited edition series. Brewers At Play 52: Spruce Tip IPA is 6.1% ABV and uses its novel ingredient to good effect. It doesn't interfere with the hopping, but adds a complementary herbal note to an otherwise quite sweet IPA, centred on notes of meadow flowers and ripe strawberry. It's certainly unusual. The big gravity gives it a luscious softness, and while it runs a risk of being overly sweet, the hopping, and pine, are generous enough to add the right level of bitterness to keep it enjoyable, orthodox and gimmick-free.

That was quite a jolly set, for the most part, and it was particularly pleasing how many good lagers there were to try. Nothing had the beatings of that first one by O'Hara's, however. I hope I'll be seeing it again before long, and that there's more like it to come from the new brewing arrangement in Dundalk.

I'm bonkers, me

Time for a quick check-in with Latvian brewery Ārpus. Craft Central carries a vast array of their cans, and I judiciously picked a handful of ones that looked, shall we say, content-friendly.

I began with something called Banana x Caramel x Pear Smoothie Sour Ale. For some unfathomable reason it was in the leftovers bargain bin section of the website. She's a messy bitch who lives for drama, overspilling the glass on pouring, then settling to a pug-ugly dull opaque beige colour. Of the named features, the caramel is strongest in the aroma, but with an added spice, conjuring Christmassy cinnamon or nutmeg vibes. Its texture goes beyond smooth, into full-on milkshake, and while it's only 4.5% ABV, it has a deep and powerful gravity, rendering it a little challenging to drink.

The flavour is much like the aroma: lots of sweet and slightly burnt caramel and that odd cake-spice element, which I'm guessing must be the pear. It doesn't taste strongly of pears, or bananas, with none of the estery heat I feared. The banana works the way it does in an actual smoothie, contributing more to the texture than taste. There is no fizz. Despite the weirdness and convoluted recipe, it's quite a simple creature, a bit less than the sum of its parts taste-wise, though they've perfected the feel of a smoothie. One for the hardcore fans of this style only, I think. It was inoffensive to me, but if the very notion, and look, of it gives you the horrors, best avoided.

Having dessert before my aperitif is just the sort of crazy guy I am. Never Say Never is a tomato gose. Not only are Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce listed on the ingredients, but celery and lemon too. Also Tajin sauce, which I'm not familiar with, but having looked it up, why the hell not? I thought it was going to pour clear, but that was just the liquid at the top of the can; the guts of it is seriously pulpy tomato gloop, with chunks in it. Only later did I notice the can's instruction to shake before opening. As with the beer above, you need to be in the mood for nonsense.

The aroma is that of a spicy tomato cocktail, which scans. The dry and powdery flaked chilli that goes into Tabasco and, presumably, Tajin sauce is the first thing to manifest: an almost smoky, paprika-like savoury spice. Then it turns monstrously sweet. There's no lactose, but it's thick and sweet enough to feel like another "smoothie sour". The tomato flavour is real and raw, adding an element of bruschetta to the already-busy flavour profile. It all fades quickly, however, leaving only a faint chilli spice and light scorch marks on one's soft palate. I wasn't sure I liked it, but for me, the spice makes it a success. I would like lighter and less chunky, but the savoury/sweet of juicy tomato seasoned with umami and spices is always going to be up my alley.

Who'd have thought that a triple IPA would be the sane and sober one of the set. At least it tastes like beer. QDH Riwaka x Citra Cryo x Mosaic Cryo x Nectaron TIPA is the name they've given it. I needn't tell you what the hops are. It's 10.3% ABV and pale and hazy, topped with a cheery fluffy white head. For all the quadruple dry hopping it smells more of vanilla than hops, and there's a slightly plasticky harsh twang, which I'm blaming on the Riwaka. It's a heavy beast, not in the same league as the two monsters above, but for an IPA, even a hazy triple one, there's a lot of chewing to be done. The hop harshness I detected in the aroma continues in the flavour, with marjoram and fennel bitterness, and where the Mosaic and Nectaron bring tropicality, it includes more bitter pith and skin than juicy flesh. And while it doesn't have the spirit-like burn of most triple IPAs, there's plenty of hot alcohol on display.

It's all rather rough and charmless. The convoluted name implies a multifaceted panoply of hop complexity, but all you get is a splat of hot murk. The beers above may have been silly, but there's an art to their silliness, and a sense of unruly fun. This, in contrast, is serious and difficult, lacking brightness and zing. Half way through I was finding it congealing in my stomach, so it could be one to share, if you have someone similarly masochistic available. Maybe if you're accustomed to drinking this sort of beer, it will work out for you, but I doubt you'll find it does anything better than all the other quadruple dry hopped hazy triple IPAs on the market.

Phew. I need a pilsner after that.

Mephistop-Helles

I can't say that Bavarian brewery Faust has appeared much on my radar, in Germany or beyond. It's always been there in the background but the only one of the beers I've tried was an Eisbock I found in Barry's cellar. Today I have two bottles of more regular fare, acquired in Molloy's off licence in Dublin.

First up, in the pale blue and white livery that's standard for the style, Bayrisch Hell. I swear these didn't used to be all under 5% ABV, but here we are again at 4.8%. What happened to Bavarian luxury? It's brightly gold, perfectly clear, and has a fine head, if not a full and handsome frothy one. It'll do. The low-ish gravity robs it of fullness, and instead this is light and crisp, with lots of fizz and more dry grain husk on the malt side than the spongecake I prefer from Helles. There's an odd fruity ester kick; a little more clove than I deem appropriate, which suggests that the technical side of things may not be quite up to code. I would worry about this getting headachey if consumed in quantity. It's no classic, that's for sure, doing the minimum to pass, but all a bit rough and shaky with it. You may deem it delightfully rustic, I prefer more polish to my Helles.

Faust Pils is a smidge stronger at 4.9% ABV, and has a better head too, although it doesn't last as long as I'd like. Again the appearance is clean golden perfection otherwise. With a pils, I'm on the lookout for hops, and this one does more of a dry rasp than grassy flavour, but that's OK. It turns a little tangy and zinc-like in the finish, and I don't mind that either. This is a simple affair. I'm happy to report there is none of the overly sweet ester character of the Helles, and while it's plain and inoffensive, it doesn't sink so low as to be deemed bland. Enough is happening with the crisp pale grain and typically German hops to grant it a pass as a good example of what it is.

I don't know if pils sells at a premium over Helles where these come from, but it tastes like altogether more effort went into that one.

The SHO must go on

With a dwindling list of Dublin pubs which put their beer offer first, it's important to treasure the ones we have left. I still think of Brickyard as a newcomer to the scene, even though it's been going for a decade now. It is a bit out of my way, however, so it's nice when I have a specific reason to go. One such was on a recent Saturday when there was a showcase of beers from Ukrainian brewery SHO, intended for the Hagstravaganza festival but missing it due to logistics problems. Sligo's loss is my gain, thank you very much.

Five beers were on tap, and I chose the natural starting point of a Helles called Hellь. Pale lagers are a good way to get a sense of any brewery's abilities, and this one gave very positive signs for SHO. It's a light 4.7% ABV but still beautifully full and smooth, with a gentle condition that could have come from a countertop wooden cask. The flavour opens sweetly, almost like candyfloss, but follows it with a balancing salad-leaf greenness, which also forms the aroma. It's flawless: not a beer to set anyone's world on fire, and not really something worth importing at great expense when Spaten is €2.50 a bottle in Aldi, but it performed the task I set for it: telling me what sort of brewery this is, and it looks like a good one.

It's a bit of a shame there was no Ukrainian golden ale in the set. The next pint was also Germanic: a weissbier called UA Weizen. Again it's only 4.7% ABV, so on the weak side, and light with it: short on body while big on fizz. That's valid, but not to my taste. The flavour is basic banana with overtones of butterscotch, none of which lasts long into the finish, mercifully. The interplay of crisp fizz and sweetness is fun for a while, but the sugar wins out and I was finding it a touch saccharine by pint's end. While I wasn't really a fan, this is as technically proficient as the Helles was, it's just a less enjoyable beer style to start with. Time to move on to something more involved.

The straight gose is called Gozel 2.0 and is a mere 3.7% ABV. This, too, is crisp and fizzy, and a bit plain. It's a clear golden colour, and begins with a dry grain-husk flavour. Tart apple skin follows, plus a vague salinity, but no herbs. I can't give it full marks for style fidelity, then. The growing banana twang as it warms is also a point against. Overall, though, it's light and refreshing, and I think that's all it's meant to be. It's boring, though. I could drink a pint of it, but I'd spend most of that thinking about what I was going to order next. 

As an east-European brewery they had to have a tomato gose, and SHO's is Cosaco Mexicano. As the name implies, there's some chilli in with the red fruit, and it's 5% ABV. I love a Bloody Mary, and this beer does a mighty fine impression of a good one. It's very much savoury-first, with soup-like tomato skin and then zingy pepper spice to lightly scorch the palate and throat. The gose saltiness adds to the savoury effect, as does some dark-soy-like umami. It's an all-round eye-opening stimulant of a beer, with a flavour that's both all over place and also perfectly plotted with well-integrated individual elements. It looks disgusting though, and the carbonation is a tad lower than ideal, but I can forgive all of that. It's high time some of our local breweries took on something like this. It's possible that someone other than me will buy them. Unlikely, yes, but possible.

Tragically, them ones over there seem to enjoy their pastry "sour" beers more than their spicy sour ones, so there had to be a cherry, hibiscus and cinnamon purple emulsion in with this lot. It's called Kysil. These don't normally keep much of a head, so it was a surprise to see one here. It's only 4% ABV but heavy with it, the lactose providing density without turning it sticky. It smells merrily of mince pies and the flavour is not too sweet, giving lots of Bakewell tart fun. So it's a pastry beer which takes the word seriously. While not a masterpiece of the brewer's art, it's a good example of this style: characterful, a bit gimmicky, but in a gently fun way, not unpleasantly overboard with the lactose or fruit syrup.  

I came home with two cans of IPA and began on Nebula Juice, the New England one. The style fidelity continues early doors, with a gently tropical aroma and a mild smear of vanilla. Like all the good hazy IPAs, the sweet and fleshy fruit is tempered with a citric bite, manifesting here as grapefruit spritz. There's a touch of yeasty spice in the finish, threatening to turn dreggy though not quite doing it. The downside is really that it doesn't do anything much, a bit like that gose. There is a point where balance becomes dull, and this lacks distinctive features as much as it lacks off flavours. The finish, in particular, is where it turns a bit watery, and even at only 5.3% ABV that's something of a problem. Full marks for ticking boxes but none for creative flair.

Of course it wasn't a surprise to find that Narcissus west coast IPA very much looks the part, being brightly golden, if not perfectly clear. That belies an aroma where slightly funky dank resin meets a caramel or toffee malt sweet side. The flavour is centred on a pithy citrus which is all the bitter, yet not harsh. There's an unusual fruit flavour complexity, perfumed like bergamot or lychee, finishing on mouthwatering pine spice. I couldn't quite place the variety, but the can helpfully tells us it's Talus (with Citra), and of course it is. The ghostly crystal malt presence from the aroma has dissipated, and the substantial substance (6.4% ABV) all goes towards supporting the hop performance. This time it's full marks for creative flair. It hits the style points as usual, but goes above and beyond.  I haven't encountered a Talus-forward beer in a while, which is a shame because it does wonderful things to clean-based IPAs.

Overall, SHO strikes me as a brewery of seriousness, tackling a variety of beer styles in an orderly, methodical way. My criticisms are largely ones of taste rather than technical prowess. These weren't official imports so I don't know if we'll see them, or other SHO beers in general circulation, but I hope we do. Cheers to Brickyard for giving us a looksee.

September pairs 5: Kinnegar

It's not all big IPAs and blousy sour ales in Irish beer these days. Kinnegar, for example, is being fierce responsible with Short Stack, a "mid-strength" IPA of 2.7% ABV. It's a pale golden colour and doesn't look watery. The aroma is brightly zesty, suggesting mandarin and Seville orange, with perhaps an extra herbal complexity lurking behind. The flavour unfortunately doesn't follow through there, and I found it unpleasantly dry, with a caraway or sesame savoury husky quality. The fruit element is no more than a pinch of zest in the finish, although the herbal side does emerge as it warms: a grassy, rye-like spice. I blame the flavour problem on the gravity. There's a thinness which probably shouldn't be surprising, but it's unhelpful regardless, and seems to be quashing the hop character. No magic tricks here: it's a compromised beer and, unfortunately, it tastes it. I get that there's a market for lower-strength products, but I also think one would be better off drinking fewer full-strength ones.

We may be some months past elderflower season, but Kinnegar has an Elderflower Saison as Brewers At Play 51. The strength is still modest, at only 4.8% ABV, and it's the pale yellow shade of lemon barley water. I'm not sure if the appearance is a factor in how it smells like a witbier, but it does, mixing light citrus, grainy cereal and a background Belgian yeast spice. So the flavour was something of a surprise: it's very banana-forward, bringing us from witbier to weissbier without passing through saison on the way. It took a glance at the can to remind me that elderflower should be a feature too, and that does, in fairness, arrive late, adding a second kind of fruity sweetness to the whole picture. I'm a little disappointed by the lack of saison crispness, finding it just a bit too fat and sugary to be properly "farmhouse", if you know what I mean. Neither spice nor funk feature. It's not a bad beer; just a bit basic. Take a very light and simple saison, add elderflower-flavoured syrup, and you're done. Not very playful. I'm willing to accept that the concept is sound, but I'd like some extra heft. Raise the ABV to 6% or so, and I reckon it would be an altogether more cheering experience.

And that's this series done. Doors open at 4pm today at the RDS. Let's see what Ireland's breweries have for us next.

September pairs 4: Lough Gill

At the outset of this series, I hadn't realised that each pair would include one pale ale and one something else. I suppose it shouldn't be surprising, statistically speaking. For the penultimate couple, we look north-westwards, to Lough Gill.

Bright Eyed alleges it's a "bright IPA" but I don't know what it means by that, because it's far from clear: a hazy pale yellow colour. Bright rather than dark, maybe? Anyway, it's 6.6% ABV and uses Citra, Southern Cross and Dulcita hops. I don't know the other two very well, but the Citra is out in force, blasting lemon and lime in the aroma and bringing a softer lemonade tang to the flavour. The texture is light and the carbonation low making for a very easy drinker, and I had to consciously slow down to appreciate the hops properly. On balance it's bitter, but there's a shaft of sunlight shining through it as well, bringing zest and even a hint of tropicality. That could be what they mean by "bright". All told, it's another excellent hop-forward Lough Gill beer, and I'm sure is best enjoyed fresh, so snap it up if you see it.

And for pudding, a Peachy Sundae. I had forgotten how good Lough Gill is at this sort of thing too. Yes, it's fruit flavoured and 7% ABV, and it contains lactose and invokes a vanilla-ish dessert, but it's actually sour. In the glass it's a dark carrot-orange colour, but it doesn't gloop, and the head crackles briefly before disappearing. The body is thin, without being watery, and there's very little sign of the alcohol. There's very little sign of the peach, for that matter, only a very broad icepop-esque summer-fruit tang. I'll note here that no fruit or flavouring is listed on the ingredients but I assume that's an oversight. The main act is a deliciously hard and acidic sourness, scouring the palate and tickling the salivary glands, the way proper mixed-fermentation beer does. This may even be one. I'm guessing the sizeable strength is created by voracious yeast, rather than simply loading up the wort with excessive amounts of sugar. I had no choice but to take it slowly, and as it warmed I began to detect a hint of sweeter, creamier vanilla lactose, but it never came close to matching the main tart tang. This is a beaut, and I commend it to anyone who might be put off by thinking from the name that it isn't proper beer.

Any guesses as to the last brewery of the sequence? We're not moving far.

September pairs 3: Third Barrel

I'm happy to observe that The Christchurch, Third Barrel Brewing's new pub, is performing its required role exceptionally well, as the hangout of preference for Dublin's zytherati.

The line of Third Barrel beers themed around it continues with The Chimes, a hoppy lager. I was a little apprehensive since the recent Eight Degrees one wasn't to my taste, but this goes hoppier. There's a soft peachy flavour on top of the crispness, and a late bitter poke, more cheeky than assertive. It's only 4.3% ABV, so as a draught-only house beer it's very well adapted. Their Czech-style Hello, Yes is better, but I can see myself switching between the two on the regular.

The lack of a tap badge on the day I came in means you're spared the woeful AI graphic of Two Sides's The Pursuit of Hoppiness. It was nice not to have the distraction because this is an excellent beer. It's an IPA of 5.4% ABV and brewed in collaboration with fellow Third Barrel client brewer, Hopsicle. And although it's doubtless designed for pub drinking -- now that all three companies involved are in the on-trade -- it's not short on complexity for considered drinking. That slightly high-for-the-pub strength gives it a satisfying weight and density, which is used to great effect by the hops. The result is wonderfully dank and oily, starting on a bright note of lime zest before turning to a more serious pine resin. A counter-melody of juicy cantaloupe plays alongside. It's a fun beer: session-drinkable, just about, while showcasing multiple attributes of the marvellous hop. The name is well chosen.

Whether we'll be seeing much by way of new beers from guest breweries at The Christchurch remains to be seen. As an outlet for new Third Barrel product alone, however, it's a welcome addition to our city's beer scene.

September pairs 2: Wicklow Wolf

First beer of the evening on one of the hottest days of late summer: if that doesn't provide a fair context for a piña colada sour beer, I don't know what does. Wicklow Wolf has called it If You Like, and it takes the brewery's Endangered Species series of limited editions to number 68. It's a gentle 3.8% ABV, and the ingredients include pineapple, coconut and lactose, as one might expect. As one also might expect, at least if you're me, it's not at all sour. The first thing to hit the palate is a smooth and slightly gummy milkshake sweetness. Its effect is exaggerated by the lack of any properly strong flavours, of any kind. After a moment, the pineapple starts to emerge, syrupy and processed rather than crisp and fresh. I couldn't really pick out any coconut, and that was a surprise, as it's not normally shy (boom boom!), and of course you can forget about any hop or malt flavour. Sticky pineapple is where this one begins and ends. Maybe it does the job of conjuring memories of that holiday cocktail you liked, but if so, I don't go on the same kind of holidays as you so I couldn't possibly say. We'll park it at "inoffensive but unexciting".

And speaking of unexciting, 67 in the series is a hazy IPA, called Petrichor. This is a modest 5% ABV and brewed with Citra, Krush and Mosaic. The aroma is very bright and zingy, a mix of oily lime citrus and some serious dank resins. Not your typical murk job, then. It turns surprisingly tropical in the flavour, with mango and, oh, more pineapple, but still hanging on to that lovely oily bitter side. I deem this just New England enough, and it avoids the sticky vanilla and any dreggy grit. The lightish strength keeps it clean and drinkable, with the right amount of cleansing fizz. It's a work of supreme balance and bursting with hop appeal. The brewery would like us to know all about the liquid extract form in which they used the Citra, and for once I'm willing to add my voice to that. The Citra here is very Citra-y.

The September Pairs series continues next week. There will be IPA, I imagine.

September pairs 1: Whiplash

Autumn has arrived, and the annual Dublin Beer Festival at the RDS will be upon us soon. Ahead of that, I have a series of short posts on recently released Irish beers, all of which have trickled through in pairs. We begin with Whiplash, and a couple of pints in their Dublin pub, Fidelity.

They've done a grodziskie, which is certainly a rarity for these parts. Final Credits (no idea why) is 3.5% ABV, and an equally-innocent clear dark gold colour. So the big opening smoke hit was a shock. This is not a subtle beer, nor a tasty and fun little curiosity from world brewing. This is a serious commitment to the smoke. It tastes of bonfires and blast furnaces; engines and factories. Smoky, but not in the savoury way of pork and fish. It is at least light-bodied, which goes some way to soften the impact, and once you're used to the acridity, I can see how it could even be seen as refreshing. But that's at least pint two, or possibly generation two of this being the ingrained local beer style. I give props to the brewery for giving one a go, but I couldn't get into this one. It's for grodziskie extremophiles only.

Whiplash brews Oddity, and the latest from the Barcelona client brewer is The Dreamer. In a move that's sadly typical for Whiplash, they claim this is west coast, though my suspicions were aroused as soon as the tap started pouring. The look is hazy; translucent, not opaque, but that's no excuse. We are NOT on the west coast here, boys and girls. The poorly-rendered subterfuge continues with a flavour which is downright juicy. Opening on fresh-squeezed, after a moment it sweetens to orangeade, leaning to hard candy and aromatic citrus oil, and only then reluctantly drifting towards the hard pith and resin of the west coast. It doesn't go all the way there, however. It's maybe a bit slight for 6.6% ABV, and while it's certainly enjoyable, well-made, and properly flavoursome, the style fidelity (lol) is poor. Exercise caution.

More IPA tomorrow, from a brewery that turns them out as prolifically as Whiplash.

Rehydrate

Look, I'm absolutely not against the concept of non-alcoholic beers. It's just that most of the specific ones I've drank have been so wide of the mark that I can't imagine an occasion when I would chose one over drinking nothing. There have been a handful of exceptions, virtually none of which have been in the lager, pale ale or wheat beer styles, which is unfortunately what the breweries keep turning out.

And yet I persist. Today's beers are three from reputable Irish producers which are commonly available. So much so that leaving them off Ireland's top-rated beer review blog would have been remiss. And so I hold my nose, figuratively speaking, and make a start.

Fierce Mild is a standalone non-alcoholic brewer, based in Dundalk. This Extra Pale Ale is the flagship, though a lager was added to the range recently. Let's see how we get on with this first. It immediately does itself no favours with the appearance: both murky and watery looking, with a crackly low-effort head, like your worst witbier nightmare. The aroma is metallic -- aspirin -- which is a common flaw is this kind of beer, but everyone else doing it is no excuse. The effect is ameliorated a little with some freshly lemony hops. Further marks come off for the texture, which is thin and watery, but at least it's refreshing, aided by a busy fizz which I found cleansing rather than intrusive. Not that there's much to cleanse, however. Neither aspirin nor lemons show up in the foretaste, though the latter arrives in the finish and becomes the beer's main character. That would almost have made it palatable, were it not for the creeping aspirin behind it. Ugh. This nearly becomes almost worthwhile, but misses it at the very end, leaving an unpleasant and unwelcome metal deposit on the palate that's tragically typical. I thought maybe the non-alcoholic specialists might have got the formula right, but they turn out to be no better than everyone else. Better get on with everyone else, so.

Galway Bay's flagship IPA has been around almost since the brewery's beginnings, and extensively reformulated over the years. I don't know if the recipe for Full Sail Zero is intended to resemble the current form. The visuals are a little better than the above: it's a marginally warmer shade of golden, though still murky and with no head after the first few seconds. It smells unpleasantly vegetal, like overboiled cabbage or spinach, which I guess is a small step sideways from metallic. It's not watery, and has a surprisingly decent body, but I honestly couldn't tell whether the flavour was either very slight or completely non-existent, and what I could taste was the residual effect of the previous beer. There's maybe a very faint echo of grapefruitish American hops, which would scan for it being a version of Full Sail, but it's extremely bland. It may feel like a beer, and even looks like one, and I guess it gets points for lacking off flavours. Lacking any flavour is a poor show, however, and this does little to raise my opinion of non-alcoholic beer.

The session rounds off with No Dose, purporting to be a pilsner, from Whiplash, where they know how pilsner is supposed to taste. They say it's unfiltered but it's still fairly clear; dark golden and without any head to speak of, alas. It smells mostly of lemonade, suggesting American hops rather than noble ones, though there's a telltale metallic twang too, which doesn't bode well. That lack of head is a result of low carbonation -- I hope they weren't depending on the weak fermentation process to condition it -- although there's a decent weight to it, with no wateriness. The unsubtle lemon is the main feature of the flavour, and it's a flavour which is not beer adjacent. It's barely lemon-adjacent, actually, tasting more like a very plain white lemonade. That lasts long and turns slightly sticky. We're back in the territory of un-beer-like, but not actually unpleasant to drink, as long as the sweetness doesn't upset you. It's a very poor impression of pilsner however.

I feel I've done something worthy by drinking these. There were no surprises: nothing that made me think that the paler form of non-alcoholic beer works as a beer substitute. That none of them was undrinkably disgusting should perhaps be a cause for celebration. Maybe that's what people mean when they say non-alcoholic beer has got better. It's a pretty low bar, though. I'll give science some time to catch up further before I tackle any more sets of these.

Heat-resistant spoons

Virtually no cask ale means absolutely no warm cask ale: a win for the Dublin pub scene, there. At JD Wetherspoon, the cellar cooling system was well able to deal with anything the summer threw at it.

To wit, at The Silver Penny, Hook Norton Haymaker. I'm guessing this pale ale is named for its strength: a whopping 5% ABV. The dark golden colour helps underline its projected power, likewise an aroma which suggests generous quantities of malt, evoking pastry or cakes with a layer of citrus jam. The flavour uses that malt too, but centres more on the hops. They're English, so I was expecting marmalade and meadows, but there's quite a new-world brightness to this beer in general. I get a white-wine grape effect, conjuring Nelson Sauvin or, from closer to home, Hallertau Blanc. Add some peppercorn spice and a rasp of leathery tannin and it rounds out nicely. It's very tasty. Amber-coloured strong bitter can sometimes feel hot and soupy; this one is clean and zingy, refreshing and sinkable, so perfect for summer drinking. I'm a fan of Hook Norton in general, and this is another of their greats.

Green Jack is less of a known quantity. Beside Haymaker was Gone Fishing, an extra special bitter. As a follow-up act to the preceding classic, it would want to be extra special, but I don't think it is. I actually regret writing about perceived soupiness in dark bitter, because this is one of those. It's a big ol' 5.5% ABV, and ornery with it, propelling toffee and red apple aromas, then tasting hot and chewy. The weird individuals who enjoy the constant supply of Greene King Abbot Ale at Wetherspoon will find little to dislike in this; it very much hits the same beats. I'm not into that, however. The experience was saved by that marvellous Wetherspoon cellar, so while the beer tasted a bit on the hot side, it never achieved full soup because it arrived exactly appropriately chilled for the conditions. I can happily write it off as a beer I didn't care for, rather than an actively bad one. If only those were all €2.60 a pint.

Lost in Mosaic wasn't the beer I went in for, but with a name like that I wasn't going to pass by it. It's by Loch Lomond brewery, 5% ABV, and a pure clear golden with a nicely lasting head through the sparkler. And deliciously cool on a day when outside was like a hairdryer. The name is no idle boast: I'd like to think I would have been able to easily identify the Mosaic hops here, in their tropical/stonefruit glory. Peach and pineapple, mango and apricot, are presented cleanly and juicily. Bitterness is minimal and the malt end serves only to propel the softly fruity hops. I can't help thinking that keg serve might have given this some bonus extra intensity but it's very hard to criticise it as a cask ale. It has freshness, coolness, heft and insane drinkability.

Unbeknownst to me when I wrote the above, I had had a much worse experience with the beer in the same pub in 2019. It's nice to be able to set the record straight.

Lastly, you don't see much White Stout around the place. They had a moment a few years back but maybe the breweries got too many complaints from pubs with inattentive and annoyed customers. Anyway, Suffolk brewery Nethergate has one, 4.5% ABV and clear golden in colour. I got a bit of chocolate in the aroma, but in an odd way, with a hint of cinnamon or gunpowder beside it. It has a convincingly creamy texture, and the flavour leads on milk chocolate, before adding that spice from the aroma, which sticks around to the finish. Perhaps that's supposed to represent roast? I don't really get it. Still, most every other attempt at this illusion has been a sickly mess, and this isn't. It may be unconvincing as a stout but it's jolly decent as a beer, of indeterminate style. The flavours (done with cocoa and vanilla, apparently) hold together well, with nothing jarring or uncomfortable. As a once-off gag, it's amusing, but I doubt it's anyone's regular pint.

Cheap, cool pints of cask ale, dark corners and functional air conditioning has made Dublin's JD Wetherspoons something of an oasis for me in recent months. I'm sure they'll go back to being that bit less attractive now the weather has turned.