I do know Panenka

It's a football term, apparently. You might expect a lager called Panenka to appear on a rotation tap when there's a football tournament on. Indeed, the same brewer created one called Maracanã for the 2014 Brazil World Cup. I don't know why this one is here and now. "Here" is The Porterhouse in Dublin's Temple Bar and it's branded as a house beer, though since the Porterhouse brewery was sold on, all beers are produced elsewhere, and this is the first of them to come from Hopkins & Hopkins, upriver in Smithfield.

A Czech-style pils is what's on offer, which seems like a reasonable prospect from a brewery that has made Helles its unlikely but welcome flagship. Magnum hops from Czechia are the signature feature we are to be on alert for. I didn't expect them to be fruity, so was surprised by the waft of light yet ripe pear in the aroma, and the same in the centre of the flavour. Around that, it is the light summer pilsner we're promised, despite a not-insubstantial 4.7% ABV. The base is very crisp and dry lager grain, teaming up with an almost aggressive carbonation. Nevertheless, it's not basic or bland. I would have liked a little more assertive noble hop bittering, beyond the faint green herbs of the finish, but it still stays on the right side of the boring/interesting divide.

I don't mean interesting as a euphemism for wonky. I think this would pass muster in a proper lager culture anywhere in the world. Obviously, nobody else who comes to The Porterhouse to drink it will appreciate what's going on the way I do, but I hope it brings a little bit of golden continental sunshine into their otherwise dreary lives.

Hoppy Monday

The advent of summer brought us a raft of new hop-forward beers from Irish brewers. Here are the ones that haven't made it into some other post.

The White Hag has embarked on an Experimental Brew Series -- everyone else is doing it, so why not? First out is XBS: Session NEIPA, a hazy IPA of just 4.5% ABV. It's not especially hazy, being pale orange and not quite opaque. The hops are the not-very-experimental Amarillo, Citra and Motueka and not much else is out of the ordinary about it. Which isn't to say it's a bad beer. There's a very pleasant light tropical fruit quality: mango and passionfruit, joined by juicy peach and soft lychee. The Citra adds a seasoning of zesty bitterness. Even for the modest strength, it's light-bodied and verges on thin, but I think that's all part of the design. You get a lovely sessionable beer, brimming with fresh and juicy hop character. It's the sort of thing White Hag frequently excels at so I really don't know where the experimentation lies, but I probably shouldn't worry about that.

I complained previously that the hazy IPA imperative had infected wild beer specialists Wide Street, and now I see that the AI-slop label disease has too, with another smeary nighttime cityscape, devoid of humanity or artistry, adorning the label of City Lights, their new session IPA. It's as yellow and murky as you like (or not) and smells of the de rigueur mix of vanilla and citrus juice: not unpleasant, but by golly I've smelled it before. I've become somewhat fascinated by how the haze squad do texture at sessionable strengths, and this conducts itself expertly. Though only 4.6% ABV, it's full and fluffy, but there's an initial waxy twang in the foretaste that concerned me at the outset. It softens a little to coconut but never quite gets rid of the plastic note. Any fruit side is seriously low-balled, maybe a little pithy orange but -- and I searched -- nothing else to report. It's not unpleasant, and crucially it's not thin and harsh, but the flavour doesn't deliver anything worthwhile. I can't imagine a session on it.

I'm somewhat surprised that Brú Brewery still exists, never mind that it's had a rebrand and released a new beer, but here we are. "Brú has seen a few changes over the years" says the can, winning the award for understatement from anyone keeping track of Ireland's independent brewing scene over the last decade and a bit. I had been previously informed that Brú beer was produced on contract at Dundalk Bay, but this says it came from its parent's actual production facility, Galway Bay in Oranmore. I'm sure they wouldn't lie. Brú Hazy IPA is barely hazy: a sort of lemonade cloudiness, pouring thinly and crackling fizzily. No pillows here. The aroma is grainy and crisp, more like a lager than any kind of IPA, and with nothing hop-related to say. There's a certain substance to the taste, not feeling as thin as it looked and sounded, but there is nothing by way of fresh hop character, which is a grave error for anything calling itself an IPA in this day and age. Cereal, cordial, fizz and talc are the sum of its parts. It's hard to believe that anyone employed to brew a hazy IPA in 2025 has never actually drank one before, but that's the only explanation. It's not a bad beer; it's not infected or flawed, but it barely passes muster as a sort of stickier witbier, and definitely not as an IPA. Take a look at what you're doing, Brú. The corner cutting won't save your company.

Rascals is next, collaborating with English brewer Rivington, on Crack On, a 5% ABV hazy pale pale. This one is properly murked, though still pale orange rather than the trendier beaten-egg yellow. "Bold haze" and "juicy vibes" are promised on the label. I found it quite restrained, however. A barely-there aroma shows nothing more exciting than orange squash, while the flavour has a lacing of savoury raw onion around the edges and a big fat nothing in the middle. The body is decently full, and it would be a great platform for some exciting hop action, but it's just not there. The label does say it's "smashable" and it is indeed very easy drinking, but in quite a plain and unexciting way. Both of these brewers know their way around the haze genre, so all I can think is that something went wrong here. There aren't any technical flaws, nor any off-flavours. It's the lack of on-flavours that troubles me. This is a beer which is sorely wanting in whirlpool and fermentation tank hops.

From Hope, a 5.5% ABV Summer 2025 New England IPA, this being the third year in a row they've done this, and this time round the usual hops of Idaho 7, Azacca and Mosaic are joined by experimental variety HBC 1019. Juice features prominently in the aroma: it has lots of zesty orangeade and cordial sweetness. The flavour swings that way too, tasting like the fun first punch through the skin of a Capri-Sun: very sweet, very spritzy and very thirst-quenching. They say it's made for outdoor drinking and it absolutely is: piling in bright and fresh New-World hop qualities, set on a light body, and keeping clean throughout. It looks like Hope has largely ceased developing this recipe: neither this year's nor last year's cans carried the year on them. Should they choose to settle on this as every year's summer recipe then I fully support it. We don't have a perennial summer beer in this country, but if we did, I would quite like it to taste like this.

Just because it's hazy doesn't mean it's juicy, and Two Yards has given us a reminder of that with Shiny Hoppy People, the second of its name. Although it looks all bright and sweet, and does have a beautiful soft texture, it is seriously dank and resinous; much more bitter than New England-style IPA tends to be, and gloriously, unapologetically so. A burst of pithy citrus towards the finish is as fruitsome as it gets, and the 5.8% ABV is well concealed. As usual with Third Barrel's Two Sides offerings, this is a high-quality pinter, right in the sweet spot between quaffable and interesting. 

Lineman has extended the Electric Avenue IPA series to number 7, trying a combination of Centennial, Krush and BRU-1 hops. On paper that sounds like it would offer just the sort of lightly citric and softly tropical combination that previous versions have excelled at. A blast of mango and apricot up the nostrils indicates that I might be correct. The flavour is pure summer, centred on sweet and bright passionfruit that I would swear was purée-derived if I didn't know better (correct me if I'm wrong there, Linemen), right up to the slightly sticky texture. There isn't room for a whole lot of complexity beyond this, but I must give credit for a balancing resinous bitterness, a mild grassy spice, and the juicy red-apple finish. At 6% ABV and full-bodied, it's not ideal for the daytime summer session, unless you're really in a mood for celebration. It's well worth including in any sequence of beer consumption this season, when available, however. I'm no brewer, but would be very interested in finding out what happens if you put these hops in a lighter pale ale. For the sesh, like.

Next, here's Lough Gill, and surf's up, with Ocean Swell. The shade of amber is spot on, though the murk is very much un-retro and not welcome. It adds a layer of dirt to the otherwise clean and English-smelling marmalade aroma, and also to the flavour, which is broadly citric, but lacks any edge. It tastes like it should be clean, sharp and invigorating, and I'm fine without the oily richness that the better West Coast IPAs show. But there's no zing here; it's quite savoury by contrast, with notes of onion and peppercorn. This isn't unpleasant, and does impart a somewhat fun retro vibe, but from a time when breweries didn't have excellent quality control. There's an unfortunate wonky-homebrew vibe to it, whereas proper West Coast IPA ought to be very clean and very precise. Whatever reason they've chosen not to give this a proper clean before packing wasn't worth it, in my opinion.

Marking twelve years since they created Ireland's first double IPA, Galway Bay has released a revised version of Of Foam & Fury, incorporating Riwaka hops. It's not the most dramatic or celebratory variety, but let's see what they've done with them. The aroma is intense, and slightly shocking at first, suggesting hot rubber and burnt hair, but mellowing after a moment to grass and pepper with a dusting of gunpowder. That's quite different to classic OF&F, but the first sip reveals both a familiar heaviness and the dry, clean body that have been the beer's hallmarks despite its previous changes over the years. It's 8.3% ABV and has never been shy about letting you know that. The spicy vegetal note continues in the flavour, so the Riwaka wasn't a minor tweak but the beer's whole deal. It dovetails nicely with the almost syrup-like malt base, making something serious, savoury and chewy; a sipper, but not hot or difficult drinking. Above all, it's retro: a reminder of a time when double IPAs were see-through and you could taste their malt. I haven't drank the original in several years, and this made me feel a little guilty about avoiding it. Anyway, if you like your nostalgia with an up-to-date twist, this fellow delivers. For a reliable second opinion, Kill gives it the once-over here.

If nothing else, I think the above shows that there's quite a variation in the quality of Irish-brewed pale ales, even when we're largely past the point of commercial breweries making amateur mistakes. Some brewers seem more interested than others in showing us a hoppy good time.

Basic Bull

A new tranche of Bullhouse beers arrived into Dublin, and I realised that I have been very remiss by not trying the core range from the Belfast haze merchants. No, the other Belfast haze merchants. Today I have two of them for you.

Suds is described as a juicy pale ale and is that slightly too dark shade of opaque yellow: an unattractive shade of earwax that speaks to me of all sorts of horrors which may lie in store. The aroma is altogether friendlier, however, and delivers all the juicy: smelling of peaches and mangoes, with a light coating of vanilla cream. The mouthfeel is an interesting mix of oaty smoothness meeting a lighter sparkle which matches the modest 4.5% ABV. I guess this is balance, showing characteristics of the session strength pale ale it is, and the New-England-style beer it also is. Both aspects are present and correct. In the flavour, the thin and fizzy side has the upper hand, resulting in a harshness to the hops. They're leafy and vegetally bitter, like raw pellets, failing to be softened by the pillowy haze. Other than that twang, it's quite clean and approachable, and if you can call hops an off-flavour, that's the only one there is. The vanilla sweetness carries through from the aroma but is subdued, and the finish is quick. I deem this broadly fine. If haze is your thing, here it is for you in a relatively low ABV package, allowing you to step away from the saturated double IPAs for a moment while still getting you your fix. In a market which appears to have an infinite capacity for this kind of beer, I can see why Bullhouse has made it central to their range. For my part, I feel I got away with something: I thought it was going to be terrible and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't. That's a pass.

A "thick Mosaic melody" if the can is to be believed, Frank the Tank is 5% ABV and hazy once again. This... doesn't smell like Mosaic, neither in its melon-and-mango mode, nor the nasty onions-and-armpits dark side. It smells dry and kerosene-like, suggesting Nelson Sauvin to me. Berries? They're not in the flavour, though we're definitely back in Mosaic territory, and the good kind. Berries suggests tartness, but this is more of a fruit salad, with segments of honeydew, pineapple, red apple and white grape. Grapes count as a berry, I guess? I have certainly seen blueberry used as a flavour descriptor on beers which tasted nothing like it, so maybe this is just me failing to pick up on the hop descriptors normal people use. Regardless of such sensory minutiae, the beer is very good. There's a heft to the base which makes for a satisfying and chewy drinking experience, yet without any heat, and not too much risk of a headache, given the strength. As well as the fruit, there's a sizeable amount of resin, making full use of the density to coat the palate with heady weedy oils. A variant called "Frank the Dank" does exist, but basic Frank is pretty damn dank. I enjoyed the combination. 

Both of these were genuinely more enjoyable than I expected them to be. I think it shows that when you get an unpleasant, hot, gritty, garlicky or otherwise nasty hazy pale ale, that's not inherent in the style: it's just bad brewing.

Old spice

As part of the blog's 20th anniversary celebrations, I picked my oldest bottle of geuze out of the stash for drinking. I bought this HORAL Megablend 2015 in 2017 but hadn't got round to opening it. At the time I said I might be opening it in 2021 because I'd heard it wasn't then ready for drinking. A full ten years is probably enough time to find out whether it ever made the grade.

It's old enough to still bear the name of 3 Fonteinen on the label's list of nine producers who created it, a lambic house which left the HORAL group not long after. It finished up at 7% ABV and was a deep amber colour in the glass, suggesting that oxidation may have taken place. The aroma has a mineral sharpness mixed with a heavier, richer, cereal side. To taste, it's not very sour but does have acres of gunpowder and Szechuan pepper spice, which I adore. Usually, you get your spice with a sterner sour acidity and sometimes a rub of waxy green bitterness (if you're lucky), but here that seems to have mellowed away, leaving a smooth and friendly fellow. Oxidation? Yes, a touch, but it's more pale sherry than wet cardboard, and confines itself to the finish, so that's OK.

I think it's safe to say that this has reached maturity, if not gone some way past it. It definitely shows signs of age, although these are both positive and negative -- as is par for the course with top-end geuze. On balance, it's very good, regardless. I have repeat bottles of the subsequent vintages stored in the same wardrobe. Now the debate is whether or not to open them sooner than their own 10th anniversaries. 

Krushing it

I'm due to post another of my round-ups of assorted Irish pale ales soon, and these three are offcuts from that work in progress. Third Barrel tends to do hoppy and hazy at a pace, so it's unsurprising that I was able to separate out three for their own entry. 

First up is Concrete Jungle, and another poorly realised AI streetscape adorns the can. Though a substantial 5.9% ABV, it's pale and hazy, looking all fluffy and innocent. Enigma, Idaho 7 and Hallertau Blanc hops had me expecting some softly fruity fun. But there's a kick to this: the aroma is quite pithy, while the flavour does have a significant citric bite, especially right before the finish. Ahead of that, it shows the grape-and-gooseberry white wine effect of H. Blanc in particular, with Enigma's spritzy satsuma plus a more serious diesel minerality. Its mouthfeel is as soft as it looks, and there is no interference from the haze: no earth, no grit. This is almost as good as hazy IPA gets. The fruit flavours could stand to be a little brighter, but they perform adequately in this understated mode as well. 

By the badly rendered palm tree (?) I'm guessing that the latest version of Two Yards is meant to taste tropical. This iteration of the hazy pale ale produced by Third Barrel for Two Sides is made with Strata and Cryo Pop, and the ABV stays at its usual 4.3%. It smells more citric than tropical, though still sweet, like mandarin or tangerine. That's pretty much how the flavour goes too, with a certain amount of pithy bitterness balancing the juice. I get a bit of oily coconut in the background, so maybe that qualifies it on the tropical front. Once again, happily, the haze doesn't interfere with the flavour but does add body, so you get a full and smooth texture to go with your mini oranges. A can at home was enjoyable but I'd say it comes into its own on the sunny front terrace of its home pub, Brickyard.

A double IPA and a triple collaboration finishes us off. Krush Proof is a joint project with Third Barrel's fellow west Dubs Lineman, and some suspicious out-of-towners called Rock City, from the Netherlands. I've remarked previously that Krush is a promising new hop, and isn't it a shame that hop hype is a thing of the past? Maybe I liked the bullshit. Anyway, tropical is the game of the name here, from the concentrated mango aroma to the guava and pineapple-in-syrup foretaste, it's pure sunshine. Not in an innocent and carefree way, though: it tastes and feels all of the 8.1% ABV and more. Allied with the fruit is a delicious contrasting spice, suggesting grapefruit skin and white pepper. It never gets busy, however, and while I would stop short of calling something so viscous "clean", nothing is out of place for a hop-showcase double IPA. You are left in no doubt that this is a strong beer, to be sipped slowly. Sharing a 440ml can with a fellow hophead wouldn't be unreasonable. On this showing, Krush is still top of the hops for now, but I remember when I used to think of Mosaic like this.

In conclusion, and to the surprise of nobody who has been paying attention, Third Barrel is still acing the whole hop thing. Whiplash has the reputation among Dublin breweries brewing this kind of beer, and of course their branding is excellent and ethical. As regards the liquid, however, I think Third Barrel has been making better stuff recently.

What works and what doesn't

The Jumping Church Brewery has been operating in Ardee, Co. Louth, since 2021. They've made no more than a handful of different beers in that time, and seemingly none of it travels very far from its place of origin. I have Thomas and Brendan to thank for donating today's three bottles, picked up on their way south to Mullingar in April. I will say at the outset that I don't have a whole lot of trust in the quality of the beer from small rural Irish breweries with very limited distribution. But I hoped for the best.

First open was Gae Bolga, a pale ale of 4.3% ABV. It's a slightly hazy amber colour, and the first sign that something may be amiss was the mass of froth and busy carbonation. If the conditioning wasn't properly under control, what else wasn't? The answer comes right in the foretaste: an acrid burnt rubber taste which suggests something is up with either the water treatment or the fermentation. It's a rookie homebrew error, and sadly much too common in beer from these sorts of tiny breweries. This is allied with a cardboard-like twang which suggests oxidation as well. Because it's a light and, frankly, quite watery beer, the Cascade, Columbus and Centennial hops' contribution isn't very loud and gets drowned out by the off flavours, for the most part. Only Cascade's earthiness puts in a proper appearance.  It's not woeful, but it's not a good pale ale either, and certainly nothing like an American brewery would produce. I hoped for better from the following two darker beers.

The retro style whose scarcity everyone complains about but nobody actually buys, red ale, is represented by Ferdia Red, again 4.3% ABV. Full marks for the visuals: it's a dark cola-brown with an off-white head, making it look wholesome and rustic, as I'm sure was the intention. It's quite fizzy again, however, which here interferes somewhat with the all-important malt in the flavour profile. When that settles a bit, there's weighty mix of caramel, coffee and chocolate, reminding me a little of another by-gone style, ruby porter, represented on this island by the once-mighty Clotworthy Dobbin from Whitewater. While that had a sneaky cheeky twist of Cascade bitterness in the finish, this is an all malt affair, taking you on a tour of the characteristics of the medium dark varieties. A very slight vegetal tang -- English hops, I assume -- is the only thing to tell you hops were involved somewhere. I was worried about off flavours which might have crept in during production or packaging but I am very happy to report that it's clean as a bean. I will take well-made and simple over complex and wonky any night of the week. This is the beer that Macardle's wishes it could be. A bottle in a warm, dark pub would be ideal, though I could still discern its quality on a drizzly summer afternoon. You won't often find me extolling Irish red, even when new ones are a rarity, but this meets the requirements adequately and is an enjoyable grown-up drink.

It must make your excise returns easier when your core range are all the same strength, because The Turf Man stout is also 4.3% ABV. While the red was dark, the stout is only a couple of shades darker beyond that, pouring a chocolate brown and looking a little murky under the cream-coloured head. The aroma is lightly roasty, not dissimilar to a certain big-brand Irish stout when it's in carbonated format: slightly burnt toast and a metallic mineral tang. I was surprised to find the texture full-on creamy, the fizz held well in check and a smooth, almost cake-like, texture taking over. The flavour is not an especially strong one, so this is very much a stout built for the session -- I would very happily spend the night on it. Nothing builds, nothings cloys, nothing twangs, and instead there's a brisk dry roast with a glimpse of a slightly deeper dark chocolate complexity: something to hold your interest during any lull in the conversation. Some slightly sticky black liquorice indicates the hops' presence. This feels to me like an Irish stout designed by someone who loves to drink Irish stout. It is the epitome of nothing-fancy while still having an understated character and quality. Like with the red, I can't pick anything I would do different, given the specification.

I don't imagine we'll be seeing any sour fruit beers or rye-and-grapefruit saisons from Jumping Church any time soon. This seems to me like the sort of little local brewer of quality, traditional-style, beers that should be rinsing the multinationals in its catchment area. That hop-forward beer might be a problem for them is unfortunate, but there's no reason they need to get good at that, any more than they need a lager. Even in this day and age it should be possible to make a living producing the basics of beer in a excellent way, as Jumping Church appears to be doing.

Hope over experience

As one of the first brewers of interesting beer I ever found, Williams Bros. has always had a bit of a halo for me. That said, where I see them recently tends to be in Aldi, and the beers they make for the supermarket are universally terrible and cheap-tasting. Well, here we are again: two IPAs, both with a nod to contemporary beer fashion. Fingers crossed and in we go.

The first is called Rocka Hula, described as a tropical IPA, and is 5.1% ABV. The can promises grapefruit, mango and guava but doesn't provide a list of ingredients. I'm not convinced that the flavour comes solely from the hops, because while it is indeed tropical-tasting, there's a sticky and sickly quality to it, which suggests to me that it's done with syrup. It's not unpleasant, however. It's a pale gold colour and only faintly misted with haze. The base is crisp and clean, with a bite of dry grain husk on the finish, after the artificial candy effect fades away. It tastes cheap, however. While it's better than the previous Williams x Aldi efforts, I can't really recommend it.

With it to Aldi came Magma, a hazy IPA of 5.2% ABV. It's barely hazy, pouring quite a dull translucent orange, though with a better head than most of the premium-grade versions manage. The aroma has both the sweetness and sharpness of citrus fruit, a little like lime or grapefruit marmalade. None of that makes much of an appearance in the flavour. Cold from the fridge, it tasted very plain, with any hop character reduced to the very finish, where it's no more than brief tang. There's kind of an empty cereal effect before that, lacking taste, as well as body and carbonation. Given a little time to warm up, all that emerges is a hard onion acidity, which is best ignored. At least that's some way to-style. Like the other one, it tastes very cheaply made, and while there's nothing especially offensive about it, there's nothing to recommend it either. It certainly won't give you the full-on, or even half-arsed, hazy IPA experience at an Aldi price.

These were actually better than I expected them to be. They sin by omitting pleasant flavours rather than putting in nasty ones. Maybe they'll be a gateway to something better for the curious Aldi shopper, but mostly I don't think they'll do anything positive for the reputation of craft beer in general and IPA in particular. This is what all the fuss is about?