I'm bonkers, me

Time for a quick check-in with Latvian brewery Ārpus. Craft Central carries a vast array of their cans, and I judiciously picked a handful of ones that looked, shall we say, content-friendly.

I began with something called Banana x Caramel x Pear Smoothie Sour Ale. For some unfathomable reason it was in the leftovers bargain bin section of the website. She's a messy bitch who lives for drama, overspilling the glass on pouring, then settling to a pug-ugly dull opaque beige colour. Of the named features, the caramel is strongest in the aroma, but with an added spice, conjuring Christmassy cinnamon or nutmeg vibes. Its texture goes beyond smooth, into full-on milkshake, and while it's only 4.5% ABV, it has a deep and powerful gravity, rendering it a little challenging to drink.

The flavour is much like the aroma: lots of sweet and slightly burnt caramel and that odd cake-spice element, which I'm guessing must be the pear. It doesn't taste strongly of pears, or bananas, with none of the estery heat I feared. The banana works the way it does in an actual smoothie, contributing more to the texture than taste. There is no fizz. Despite the weirdness and convoluted recipe, it's quite a simple creature, a bit less than the sum of its parts taste-wise, though they've perfected the feel of a smoothie. One for the hardcore fans of this style only, I think. It was inoffensive to me, but if the very notion, and look, of it gives you the horrors, best avoided.

Having dessert before my aperitif is just the sort of crazy guy I am. Never Say Never is a tomato gose. Not only are Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce listed on the ingredients, but celery and lemon too. Also Tajin sauce, which I'm not familiar with, but having looked it up, why the hell not? I thought it was going to pour clear, but that was just the liquid at the top of the can; the guts of it is seriously pulpy tomato gloop, with chunks in it. Only later did I notice the can's instruction to shake before opening. As with the beer above, you need to be in the mood for nonsense.

The aroma is that of a spicy tomato cocktail, which scans. The dry and powdery flaked chilli that goes into Tabasco and, presumably, Tajin sauce is the first thing to manifest: an almost smoky, paprika-like savoury spice. Then it turns monstrously sweet. There's no lactose, but it's thick and sweet enough to feel like another "smoothie sour". The tomato flavour is real and raw, adding an element of bruschetta to the already-busy flavour profile. It all fades quickly, however, leaving only a faint chilli spice and light scorch marks on one's soft palate. I wasn't sure I liked it, but for me, the spice makes it a success. I would like lighter and less chunky, but the savoury/sweet of juicy tomato seasoned with umami and spices is always going to be up my alley.

Who'd have thought that a triple IPA would be the sane and sober one of the set. At least it tastes like beer. QDH Riwaka x Citra Cryo x Mosaic Cryo x Nectaron TIPA is the name they've given it. I needn't tell you what the hops are. It's 10.3% ABV and pale and hazy, topped with a cheery fluffy white head. For all the quadruple dry hopping it smells more of vanilla than hops, and there's a slightly plasticky harsh twang, which I'm blaming on the Riwaka. It's a heavy beast, not in the same league as the two monsters above, but for an IPA, even a hazy triple one, there's a lot of chewing to be done. The hop harshness I detected in the aroma continues in the flavour, with marjoram and fennel bitterness, and where the Mosaic and Nectaron bring tropicality, it includes more bitter pith and skin than juicy flesh. And while it doesn't have the spirit-like burn of most triple IPAs, there's plenty of hot alcohol on display.

It's all rather rough and charmless. The convoluted name implies a multifaceted panoply of hop complexity, but all you get is a splat of hot murk. The beers above may have been silly, but there's an art to their silliness, and a sense of unruly fun. This, in contrast, is serious and difficult, lacking brightness and zing. Half way through I was finding it congealing in my stomach, so it could be one to share, if you have someone similarly masochistic available. Maybe if you're accustomed to drinking this sort of beer, it will work out for you, but I doubt you'll find it does anything better than all the other quadruple dry hopped hazy triple IPAs on the market.

Phew. I need a pilsner after that.

Mephistop-Helles

I can't say that Bavarian brewery Faust has appeared much on my radar, in Germany or beyond. It's always been there in the background but the only one of the beers I've tried was an Eisbock I found in Barry's cellar. Today I have two bottles of more regular fare, acquired in Molloy's off licence in Dublin.

First up, in the pale blue and white livery that's standard for the style, Bayrisch Hell. I swear these didn't used to be all under 5% ABV, but here we are again at 4.8%. What happened to Bavarian luxury? It's brightly gold, perfectly clear, and has a fine head, if not a full and handsome frothy one. It'll do. The low-ish gravity robs it of fullness, and instead this is light and crisp, with lots of fizz and more dry grain husk on the malt side than the spongecake I prefer from Helles. There's an odd fruity ester kick; a little more clove than I deem appropriate, which suggests that the technical side of things may not be quite up to code. I would worry about this getting headachey if consumed in quantity. It's no classic, that's for sure, doing the minimum to pass, but all a bit rough and shaky with it. You may deem it delightfully rustic, I prefer more polish to my Helles.

Faust Pils is a smidge stronger at 4.9% ABV, and has a better head too, although it doesn't last as long as I'd like. Again the appearance is clean golden perfection otherwise. With a pils, I'm on the lookout for hops, and this one does more of a dry rasp than grassy flavour, but that's OK. It turns a little tangy and zinc-like in the finish, and I don't mind that either. This is a simple affair. I'm happy to report there is none of the overly sweet ester character of the Helles, and while it's plain and inoffensive, it doesn't sink so low as to be deemed bland. Enough is happening with the crisp pale grain and typically German hops to grant it a pass as a good example of what it is.

I don't know if pils sells at a premium over Helles where these come from, but it tastes like altogether more effort went into that one.

The SHO must go on

With a dwindling list of Dublin pubs which put their beer offer first, it's important to treasure the ones we have left. I still think of Brickyard as a newcomer to the scene, even though it's been going for a decade now. It is a bit out of my way, however, so it's nice when I have a specific reason to go. One such was on a recent Saturday when there was a showcase of beers from Ukrainian brewery SHO, intended for the Hagstravaganza festival but missing it due to logistics problems. Sligo's loss is my gain, thank you very much.

Five beers were on tap, and I chose the natural starting point of a Helles called Hellь. Pale lagers are a good way to get a sense of any brewery's abilities, and this one gave very positive signs for SHO. It's a light 4.7% ABV but still beautifully full and smooth, with a gentle condition that could have come from a countertop wooden cask. The flavour opens sweetly, almost like candyfloss, but follows it with a balancing salad-leaf greenness, which also forms the aroma. It's flawless: not a beer to set anyone's world on fire, and not really something worth importing at great expense when Spaten is €2.50 a bottle in Aldi, but it performed the task I set for it: telling me what sort of brewery this is, and it looks like a good one.

It's a bit of a shame there was no Ukrainian golden ale in the set. The next pint was also Germanic: a weissbier called UA Weizen. Again it's only 4.7% ABV, so on the weak side, and light with it: short on body while big on fizz. That's valid, but not to my taste. The flavour is basic banana with overtones of butterscotch, none of which lasts long into the finish, mercifully. The interplay of crisp fizz and sweetness is fun for a while, but the sugar wins out and I was finding it a touch saccharine by pint's end. While I wasn't really a fan, this is as technically proficient as the Helles was, it's just a less enjoyable beer style to start with. Time to move on to something more involved.

The straight gose is called Gozel 2.0 and is a mere 3.7% ABV. This, too, is crisp and fizzy, and a bit plain. It's a clear golden colour, and begins with a dry grain-husk flavour. Tart apple skin follows, plus a vague salinity, but no herbs. I can't give it full marks for style fidelity, then. The growing banana twang as it warms is also a point against. Overall, though, it's light and refreshing, and I think that's all it's meant to be. It's boring, though. I could drink a pint of it, but I'd spend most of that thinking about what I was going to order next. 

As an east-European brewery they had to have a tomato gose, and SHO's is Cosaco Mexicano. As the name implies, there's some chilli in with the red fruit, and it's 5% ABV. I love a Bloody Mary, and this beer does a mighty fine impression of a good one. It's very much savoury-first, with soup-like tomato skin and then zingy pepper spice to lightly scorch the palate and throat. The gose saltiness adds to the savoury effect, as does some dark-soy-like umami. It's an all-round eye-opening stimulant of a beer, with a flavour that's both all over place and also perfectly plotted with well-integrated individual elements. It looks disgusting though, and the carbonation is a tad lower than ideal, but I can forgive all of that. It's high time some of our local breweries took on something like this. It's possible that someone other than me will buy them. Unlikely, yes, but possible.

Tragically, them ones over there seem to enjoy their pastry "sour" beers more than their spicy sour ones, so there had to be a cherry, hibiscus and cinnamon purple emulsion in with this lot. It's called Kysil. These don't normally keep much of a head, so it was a surprise to see one here. It's only 4% ABV but heavy with it, the lactose providing density without turning it sticky. It smells merrily of mince pies and the flavour is not too sweet, giving lots of Bakewell tart fun. So it's a pastry beer which takes the word seriously. While not a masterpiece of the brewer's art, it's a good example of this style: characterful, a bit gimmicky, but in a gently fun way, not unpleasantly overboard with the lactose or fruit syrup.  

I came home with two cans of IPA and began on Nebula Juice, the New England one. The style fidelity continues early doors, with a gently tropical aroma and a mild smear of vanilla. Like all the good hazy IPAs, the sweet and fleshy fruit is tempered with a citric bite, manifesting here as grapefruit spritz. There's a touch of yeasty spice in the finish, threatening to turn dreggy though not quite doing it. The downside is really that it doesn't do anything much, a bit like that gose. There is a point where balance becomes dull, and this lacks distinctive features as much as it lacks off flavours. The finish, in particular, is where it turns a bit watery, and even at only 5.3% ABV that's something of a problem. Full marks for ticking boxes but none for creative flair.

Of course it wasn't a surprise to find that Narcissus west coast IPA very much looks the part, being brightly golden, if not perfectly clear. That belies an aroma where slightly funky dank resin meets a caramel or toffee malt sweet side. The flavour is centred on a pithy citrus which is all the bitter, yet not harsh. There's an unusual fruit flavour complexity, perfumed like bergamot or lychee, finishing on mouthwatering pine spice. I couldn't quite place the variety, but the can helpfully tells us it's Talus (with Citra), and of course it is. The ghostly crystal malt presence from the aroma has dissipated, and the substantial substance (6.4% ABV) all goes towards supporting the hop performance. This time it's full marks for creative flair. It hits the style points as usual, but goes above and beyond.  I haven't encountered a Talus-forward beer in a while, which is a shame because it does wonderful things to clean-based IPAs.

Overall, SHO strikes me as a brewery of seriousness, tackling a variety of beer styles in an orderly, methodical way. My criticisms are largely ones of taste rather than technical prowess. These weren't official imports so I don't know if we'll see them, or other SHO beers in general circulation, but I hope we do. Cheers to Brickyard for giving us a looksee.

September pairs 5: Kinnegar

It's not all big IPAs and blousy sour ales in Irish beer these days. Kinnegar, for example, is being fierce responsible with Short Stack, a "mid-strength" IPA of 2.7% ABV. It's a pale golden colour and doesn't look watery. The aroma is brightly zesty, suggesting mandarin and Seville orange, with perhaps an extra herbal complexity lurking behind. The flavour unfortunately doesn't follow through there, and I found it unpleasantly dry, with a caraway or sesame savoury husky quality. The fruit element is no more than a pinch of zest in the finish, although the herbal side does emerge as it warms: a grassy, rye-like spice. I blame the flavour problem on the gravity. There's a thinness which probably shouldn't be surprising, but it's unhelpful regardless, and seems to be quashing the hop character. No magic tricks here: it's a compromised beer and, unfortunately, it tastes it. I get that there's a market for lower-strength products, but I also think one would be better off drinking fewer full-strength ones.

We may be some months past elderflower season, but Kinnegar has an Elderflower Saison as Brewers At Play 51. The strength is still modest, at only 4.8% ABV, and it's the pale yellow shade of lemon barley water. I'm not sure if the appearance is a factor in how it smells like a witbier, but it does, mixing light citrus, grainy cereal and a background Belgian yeast spice. So the flavour was something of a surprise: it's very banana-forward, bringing us from witbier to weissbier without passing through saison on the way. It took a glance at the can to remind me that elderflower should be a feature too, and that does, in fairness, arrive late, adding a second kind of fruity sweetness to the whole picture. I'm a little disappointed by the lack of saison crispness, finding it just a bit too fat and sugary to be properly "farmhouse", if you know what I mean. Neither spice nor funk feature. It's not a bad beer; just a bit basic. Take a very light and simple saison, add elderflower-flavoured syrup, and you're done. Not very playful. I'm willing to accept that the concept is sound, but I'd like some extra heft. Raise the ABV to 6% or so, and I reckon it would be an altogether more cheering experience.

And that's this series done. Doors open at 4pm today at the RDS. Let's see what Ireland's breweries have for us next.

September pairs 4: Lough Gill

At the outset of this series, I hadn't realised that each pair would include one pale ale and one something else. I suppose it shouldn't be surprising, statistically speaking. For the penultimate couple, we look north-westwards, to Lough Gill.

Bright Eyed alleges it's a "bright IPA" but I don't know what it means by that, because it's far from clear: a hazy pale yellow colour. Bright rather than dark, maybe? Anyway, it's 6.6% ABV and uses Citra, Southern Cross and Dulcita hops. I don't know the other two very well, but the Citra is out in force, blasting lemon and lime in the aroma and bringing a softer lemonade tang to the flavour. The texture is light and the carbonation low making for a very easy drinker, and I had to consciously slow down to appreciate the hops properly. On balance it's bitter, but there's a shaft of sunlight shining through it as well, bringing zest and even a hint of tropicality. That could be what they mean by "bright". All told, it's another excellent hop-forward Lough Gill beer, and I'm sure is best enjoyed fresh, so snap it up if you see it.

And for pudding, a Peachy Sundae. I had forgotten how good Lough Gill is at this sort of thing too. Yes, it's fruit flavoured and 7% ABV, and it contains lactose and invokes a vanilla-ish dessert, but it's actually sour. In the glass it's a dark carrot-orange colour, but it doesn't gloop, and the head crackles briefly before disappearing. The body is thin, without being watery, and there's very little sign of the alcohol. There's very little sign of the peach, for that matter, only a very broad icepop-esque summer-fruit tang. I'll note here that no fruit or flavouring is listed on the ingredients but I assume that's an oversight. The main act is a deliciously hard and acidic sourness, scouring the palate and tickling the salivary glands, the way proper mixed-fermentation beer does. This may even be one. I'm guessing the sizeable strength is created by voracious yeast, rather than simply loading up the wort with excessive amounts of sugar. I had no choice but to take it slowly, and as it warmed I began to detect a hint of sweeter, creamier vanilla lactose, but it never came close to matching the main tart tang. This is a beaut, and I commend it to anyone who might be put off by thinking from the name that it isn't proper beer.

Any guesses as to the last brewery of the sequence? We're not moving far.

September pairs 3: Third Barrel

I'm happy to observe that The Christchurch, Third Barrel Brewing's new pub, is performing its required role exceptionally well, as the hangout of preference for Dublin's zytherati.

The line of Third Barrel beers themed around it continues with The Chimes, a hoppy lager. I was a little apprehensive since the recent Eight Degrees one wasn't to my taste, but this goes hoppier. There's a soft peachy flavour on top of the crispness, and a late bitter poke, more cheeky than assertive. It's only 4.3% ABV, so as a draught-only house beer it's very well adapted. Their Czech-style Hello, Yes is better, but I can see myself switching between the two on the regular.

The lack of a tap badge on the day I came in means you're spared the woeful AI graphic of Two Sides's The Pursuit of Hoppiness. It was nice not to have the distraction because this is an excellent beer. It's an IPA of 5.4% ABV and brewed in collaboration with fellow Third Barrel client brewer, Hopsicle. And although it's doubtless designed for pub drinking -- now that all three companies involved are in the on-trade -- it's not short on complexity for considered drinking. That slightly high-for-the-pub strength gives it a satisfying weight and density, which is used to great effect by the hops. The result is wonderfully dank and oily, starting on a bright note of lime zest before turning to a more serious pine resin. A counter-melody of juicy cantaloupe plays alongside. It's a fun beer: session-drinkable, just about, while showcasing multiple attributes of the marvellous hop. The name is well chosen.

Whether we'll be seeing much by way of new beers from guest breweries at The Christchurch remains to be seen. As an outlet for new Third Barrel product alone, however, it's a welcome addition to our city's beer scene.

September pairs 2: Wicklow Wolf

First beer of the evening on one of the hottest days of late summer: if that doesn't provide a fair context for a piña colada sour beer, I don't know what does. Wicklow Wolf has called it If You Like, and it takes the brewery's Endangered Species series of limited editions to number 68. It's a gentle 3.8% ABV, and the ingredients include pineapple, coconut and lactose, as one might expect. As one also might expect, at least if you're me, it's not at all sour. The first thing to hit the palate is a smooth and slightly gummy milkshake sweetness. Its effect is exaggerated by the lack of any properly strong flavours, of any kind. After a moment, the pineapple starts to emerge, syrupy and processed rather than crisp and fresh. I couldn't really pick out any coconut, and that was a surprise, as it's not normally shy (boom boom!), and of course you can forget about any hop or malt flavour. Sticky pineapple is where this one begins and ends. Maybe it does the job of conjuring memories of that holiday cocktail you liked, but if so, I don't go on the same kind of holidays as you so I couldn't possibly say. We'll park it at "inoffensive but unexciting".

And speaking of unexciting, 67 in the series is a hazy IPA, called Petrichor. This is a modest 5% ABV and brewed with Citra, Krush and Mosaic. The aroma is very bright and zingy, a mix of oily lime citrus and some serious dank resins. Not your typical murk job, then. It turns surprisingly tropical in the flavour, with mango and, oh, more pineapple, but still hanging on to that lovely oily bitter side. I deem this just New England enough, and it avoids the sticky vanilla and any dreggy grit. The lightish strength keeps it clean and drinkable, with the right amount of cleansing fizz. It's a work of supreme balance and bursting with hop appeal. The brewery would like us to know all about the liquid extract form in which they used the Citra, and for once I'm willing to add my voice to that. The Citra here is very Citra-y.

The September Pairs series continues next week. There will be IPA, I imagine.