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.