Dublin's west coast

A couple of weeks ago, I made a return visit to Urban Brewing to see what was new. I'm not sure if it's a positive sign that the big winter beers which were there in December were still on: the Wee Heavy and Winter Stout, though it's nice that more people get to enjoy them, perhaps.

New was an American Cream Ale, a style we almost never see in Europe, never mind Ireland. I'm not much of a fan, but that doesn't usually stop me. It's the yellow-green shade of a Golden Delicious apple and very slightly hazy. The aroma is that of a pilsner: clean, crisp grain husk and a gently fresh grassiness. While there's a bit of lagerishness in the flavour, and moreso in the texture, sitting in the middle is a huge honking mass of perfume or fabric-softener taste. Bleuh. The brewery says they've intended it for session drinking (it's 5% ABV) but before the half-way point of a half pint, I was finding it tough. I had been expecting bland, so getting something actively unpleasant was a shock. This might not be a typical cream ale, but it sure hasn't changed my opinion of them.

The emigration-themed visitor experience next door to Urban, with which it shares a co-owner, occasionally commissions tie-in beers from the brewery, and for the tourist influx of St Patrick's Day 2026, it was Emerald Voyager. The gimmick is ingredients from every inhabited continent, with sorghum from Africa, maté from South America, malt from Europe, and hops from everywhere else. Sounds a bit busy, but I chanced a pint anyway.

What arrived was a murky ochre, and the maté had control of the aroma: dry grass vegetal bitterness. The flavour, however, is very much hop-driven, starting on greasy, piney, west-coast resin. There's a peppery edge to that, meaning it's dry, not the fruity sort of murk. My experience of sorghum in beer is limited, but that's a dry spice too, right? So it may be contributing, although it and the maté are likely being overwhelmed by the hop onslaught. No harm. A daycent hop onslaught is something that the contemporary beer scene does too little of. While only 4.9% ABV, there's enough caramelised malt to keep it in some sort of balance, but balance is not really a feature. The recipe may have been a gimmick, but whoever turned the concept into a beer knew exactly what they were doing.

For the cleansing of the palate, Elderberry Red Ale. Elderberries don't taste of much and neither do red ales, so that seems apt. It's a dark fellow, more brown than red, and smells tart and fruity, like grapes or raspberries. There's definitely a surprise lambic vibe here, early on. It's not sour, and the base beer is very plain. It's earthy and quite watery, despite a claim of 5% ABV, though a stern roasted grain element adds some good, grown-up, character. The berries are layered on top of this, offsetting the dryness a little, with notes of raisin and blackcurrant. I guess this succeeds at what it's trying to be. The fruit side is far from invisible, for one thing. I don't think it's a great beer however, pulling in too many contrasting directions at once. Sometimes gimmicks work, and sometimes they don't.

Last up is a West Coast Double IPA, passing the strength test at 8.4% ABV, but questionably murky, if appropriately amber. There's a sizeable dankness in the aroma, allied to marmalade pith, thanks to Simcoe, Centennial, Chinook and Galaxy hops. The mouthfeel is very thick and syrupy, flavoured with bright orange candy and strongly reminiscent of '00s double IPAs, when the style was new, exciting, and a little bit dangerous. Not that you could quaff this quickly; it arrived ice cold but still packed a hefty density which meant I took it slowly. The flavour brings pith first, clean and sharp, then a thicker resinousness where the hops contrast pleasingly with a syrupy malt sweet side. It tails off a bit after that, and is no masterpiece of complexity, but the palate-coating hop residue is fun, and hitches a free ride home on your lips and tongue. While it's far from concepts like juicy and smooth, this is fabulously retro and enjoyable as much as a piece of recreated history as a beer.

It was a session of two non-contiguous halves, then. Urban has done some righteous and classy hop work with the pale ales here, and while I welcome the off-kilter nature of the other two -- exactly what any brewpub ought to be doing -- those beers didn't work out for me, this time.