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.