Ten Hope!

Dublin's Hope brewery is celebrating ten years in production this year. They've come a long way from the contract brewer I first met at the RDS beer festival in 2015, growing into one of the established mainstays of Irish brewing, via the radical and daring strategy of making nice beer and then selling it to people.

Celebrating with it is its Dutch twin sister brewery, and homophone, Hoop. Hope has brewed its own version of a honey ale Hoop did earlier this year. It's called Queen Bee® and is 5.5% ABV, found on tap at Caribou, thanks to a heads-up from Lisa Grimm on teh socials. The honey manifests in the flavour as meadow flowers and a sterner waxen note, both of which return emboldened in the flavour. It tastes more of perfume than honey, almost musky: arguably less honey-like than a typical, unadorned, golden ale in the low-countries style. And while it's definitely a gimmick, it doesn't lose sight of the underlying beeriness, with a lager-like clean crispness in its finish as well as matching grassy hop bitterness. Not a bad effort, all told. A big imperial stout would have been better, though perhaps less suitable for a mere ten-year-old.

After a couple of years at a heady 5.5% ABV, the brewery has dropped the strength of its summer seasonal New England IPA down to 4.9%, where it was last seen in 2020. Well, at least it gives me an excuse to review it again. I see from the data that the bittering units have also plummeted, 23 today compared to 42 six years ago. That would be quite shocking, if IBUs actually meant something. It looks... normal: a sunny yellow colour, with a slight translucency indicating a low gravity. The aroma is zesty, and sharper than I was expecting, leading into a flavour that's much more about the west-coast lemon and lime than any New England vanilla custard. I approve. It's light enough to be refreshing and thirst-quenching, which is another boon from the decision not to go full sludge. On the downside, the finish is rather abrupt, and it could reasonably be accused of thinness. While fun at first, the bittering does get a little severe towards the end -- sharp aspirin and zinc -- and if the intention was for this to be a session beer, I'm not sure it succeeds. One was enjoyable, however. I reckon there's a sweet spot to be hit, between this and the soupy fruit salad jobs.

And speaking of fruit salad, we finish on Limited Edition 39: Pineapple and Passion Fruit Sour. Funnily enough, they did the exact same thing for number 15 in the series, back in 2019. Even the strength of 4.7% ABV matched. It poured crackling and fizzy, making it clear from the outset that this is the thin sort of fruit sour, with no pastry. It's not unpleasantly watery, though, with enough substance to give it a rounded texture, as one might find with a quality lager. The aroma is dry and tart, keeping the fruit in the background and emphasising the mineral sourness instead, a feature that's both literally and figuratively refreshing. The passionfruit is rather more central to the flavour, but still without the overwhelming gummy sorbet sweetness it often shows as. Here, it's not muted, but it's not allowed to dominate either. There's a balance between the simple kettle-soured acidity and the syrup. You have to wait for the pineapple, but it arrives in the finish, adding a different sort of tropical sunshine. This is a jolly little beer; again maybe a little too sharp for more than one in a sitting, but it's a great example of what it is.

Happy birthday to Hope, then. It has certainly brightened my drinking life in Dublin over the last decade -- I count the Hop-On tap in Dublin airport among my best friends. Long may the regulars, seasonals, limited editions and collaborations continue. What more could one want from a local producer?