Feel the width

The best brewery in Longford, Wide Street, makes a return to these pages today, with a whole three new beers.

The first, Keller Pils, has been around since last autumn, but had eluded me until recently. This strikes me as the kind of beer a brewer makes primarily for their own consumption, and that's generally a good sign. A 5.5% ABV lager, it is only slightly hazy, and attractively golden. Its aroma is even more enticing, balancing snazzy Saaz grass with soft and cuddly candyfloss malt, plus a little hint of lemon on the end for a cheeky extra piquancy. Saaz "in its purest form" reads the label copy, and you certainly get that in the foretaste: a big bitter hit of mixed dried herbs, spicier than the damp cut grass which I more readily associate with the hop, but no less enjoyable. A softly floral honey effect follows, and then the malt is right in behind, giving it a gentle spongecake sweetness, before a clean finish with no aftertaste. There's a nicely full body, making it satisfying drinking. For a fuzzy beer, this is a precision effort, and delivers exactly what the style demands. Perfect after a long day tending to the fermenters and whatnot, I'm sure.

Ooof, it's a hazy IPA next. What happened, Wide Street? You used to be cool. The Crystal Ship is a murky amber, rather than the more fashionable beaten-egg shade. The aroma is tropical and funky, like a bowl of mango and passionfruit was left to ripen for too long. The colour had me a bit worried that it might be oxidised, but there is no staleness in the flavour. Things stay sunny and tropical, and definitely fresh, with just a hint of savoury grittiness arriving after the fruit. That's not enough to spoil things, but at the same time the beer is a little on the subtle side, and I think a bigger hop flavour would improve it. It's only 5% ABV, so perhaps the subtlety can be excused. This is probably better oriented towards pub drinking, and has more than a little in common with Trouble Brewing's classically pintable haze, Ambush. If that's a regular for you, definitely try this. And while it's well-made and tasty, I would still prefer if Wide Street didn't make a habit of haze.

"Barrel-aged wild sour ale" is more like it. This is Passiflora, given three years in oak and then, dubiously, flavoured with passionfruit. It's 5.8% ABV and a warm red-gold in the glass. The oak is immediately apparent from the aroma, with a classy, lambic-like gunpowder spice, and the suggestion of quite a robust sourness. That's where the passionfruit comes in. The fruit helps soften the flavour, smoothing it out without dulling its edge. It tastes sour, for sure, but not harshly acidic, and the spice is still there, though now more pepper than mineral, with hints of cinnamon and incense too. I feared the passionfruit would feel artificial or tacked-on, but it's well-integrated, adding a classy perfume rather than sticky syrup. While the strength isn't apparent, it's not a beer to drink quickly. The sourness means small sips are the way to go, while the spicing that comes with each one makes for optimal enjoyment. This is classy stuff, and one of those beers I'd half expect to be delivered in a corked bottled, though a can suited me just fine.

That's a pretty good set, then. If the brewery feels it must make hazy IPA then they've gone about it the right way. But drinking pils and the wild 'n' weird is where they do their best work. Long may that continue.

Amber to red

Who's up for some malty goodness? Today's pair are of the russet persuasion, noteworthy for being something Irish brewers don't produce very often. Tellingly, they're quite different from the usual formula for Irish red ale.

O Brother, for example, has allied with coffee roasters Velo to create a Coffee Amber Ale, exclusive to Aldi. It is indeed amber: a dark shade, though not at risk of being mistaken for porter or brown ale. That's topped with a head of fine bubbles, looking almost nitrogenated. The aroma is dry and roasty, though very much in a beer way, not coffee. There's a hint of cherry or similar red fruit too. The coffee waits until the flavour to appear, but isn't shy when it does. It doesn't taste like the frighteningly serious gourmet coffee that I associate with named roasteries, but is sweet and somewhat powdery, suggesting (to my untutored coffee palate) instant with a dollop of cream. Next to that, there's lots of genuine malt character, bringing more of that red fruit from the aroma, though more strawberry than cherry, some light caramel and a toasted grain dryness to keep things balanced. It's no masterpiece of complexity, but is enjoyable and delivers well on the promise of amber ale with coffee.

For its 38th Limited Edition beer, Hope chose Red Ale, which I thought was an odd move until I read the small print. 7% ABV with Citra and El Dorado as dry hops means we're a long way from Macardles. There's definitely a citrus quality to the aroma, but not intensely so. It only smells a little like a pale ale. I think of El Dorado as a fruit-candy flavoured hop, but the main flavour of this beer is at the opposite end of the spectrum: dank, oily, and very savoury. That contrasts strongly with the caramelised malt, and it's a bit disconcerting at first, especially when the beer is still fridge-cold. It rounds out once there's a little warmth on board, however, even if it never quite loses its sharpness. The strength helps the malt hold its own against the hop onslaught, though I don't think I can fairly call it balance. While this is a bit of fun, I'm happy for it to be a once-off. The experiment to marry rich red malt with resinous American hops has not been entirely successful here, and the result is just a little too discordant to be enjoyable. I have tasted plenty of excellent American-style amber ales, but they tend to be more subtle on all fronts, and with good reason, it seems.

I somehow doubt that these beers will meet the needs of the people who complain about the lack of red beers from Irish breweries. Both are significant twists on the plain caramel-water of mainstream red. And while I wasn't a huge fan of either, they're still better than the norm. Hooray for variety, I guess.

Where beer geeks fear to tread

Today it's another chapter in the ongoing history of Dublin's Smithfield Brewing Company, last seen in this post from 2024. Back then, a shiny new brewing kit had been installed at the old soap factory on North King Street but there was no sign of the brewery opening, nor indeed of any brewing happening -- I understand there is a well-established contract brewing link to JJ's in Limerick. I suspect that will be the case for a little while yet, as the soap factory has been earmarked for redevelopment into student flats, meaning the brewery will be on the move again.

Smithfield Brewing is part of a company which owns a small chain of central Dublin pubs, clustered around fashionable Fade Street, which are the only venues in which the beer is served. Finding out what they're pouring these days meant going undercover as one of the cool kids, to Drury Buildings, where four unfamiliar Smithfield beers were on tap.

Smithfield IPA looks a bit flag-shippy, leftmost of the tap array and with the least explanation of what it is. 4.7% is the ABV, and it's pale too: a pilsner-clear golden. The badge helpfully tells us its made with Cascade and Citra, and there's certainly an American vibe, presenting lemon and lime up front. After an initial spike, the bitterness is restrained, turning quickly to sherbet and chew sweets, finishing on lemon drop candy. That goes with a softness of texture, not like a pillowy New England IPA but more of a multivitamin tablet effervescence. A metallic aspirin tang is the only bum note, but otherwise it's a cromulent take on the Irish pintable version of American pale ale. Customers who just want to point at a badge saying "IPA" and order one of those are well served.

I'm sure Smithfield Lager has been out and about before under various guises. It's not great, but not offensive either. Again the texture is soft and rounded, much more like an ale, and I raise an eyebrow towards the brewery's "lager" brewing protocol. The flavour does the basics on the malt front: clean, with a Czech golden syrup feature. Hops don't manifest, but from the yeast we get a panopaly of pear, passionfruit and lychee which is quite tasty, but doesn't resemble lager as our continent understands it. Again, the non-beer-aligned customer spots lager and orders this, except those people don't exist in the brand-first Irish beer scene. Putting this on beside Moretti won't attract those people, nor the Heineken nor Rockshore people. It still wouldn't if it were a better beer either, so, *shrug*.

Fair play to Smithfield for making a Red Ale, the style that everybody loves but nobody likes. Theirs is on the pale side, and a little hazy. The aspirin twang I noticed in the IPA (which I suspect is a JJ's house trait) is here in spades. It sits next to big caramel and a mild fruitiness. As an Irish red: yeah, it probably qualifies. For independent brands, this style is probably only ordered by tourists, and it doesn't matter if they order another. I doubt they will. This lacks the easy lagerish drinkability of Smithwick's and Macardles but doesn't have the extra craft dimension of O'Hara's Red, say. A pub chain wanting to have their own red ale is cool; this example of it? Nah.

It's not like me to leave the weakest beer to the end, but the name Light Pale Ale didn't sell it to me. I would imagine that other breweries would call this 3.8% ABV job a "Session IPA". Still, when I did eventually chance a pint, the early signs were good. The spicy gunpowder aroma was delightfully unexpected, and the beer has plenty of body, despite the low gravity. The flavour was another surprise, showing lots of complexity, combining zesty orange, a floral bergamot bitterness, and then more of that spice, like a sprinkle of freshly-ground black pepper. It's a fantastic combination, however it's done, and even the return of the aspirin dryness doesn't come close to spoiling it. This is, above all, a fun beer; accessible but with plenty going on too. I'm glad it left me with something positive to say before I moved on.

I imagine these beers will change. Late last year, Dublin City Council granted permission for Smithfield Brewing to open a new brewpub at the bottom of Smithfield Square, beside the Luas tracks. If I'm correct in thinking that the current beers come from JJ's rather than North King Street, then the move presents an opportunity to get that aspirin tang out of them. In the planning application, the owners expressed an intention to open pub hours, which means that in addition to moving the brewing licence and the kit, a pub licence will need to be found and applied as well. All of that takes time, so I'm not expecting to be dropping in for a pint any time soon. Before settling on the name "Smithfield Brewing", the brand was called "Persistence". They've certainly shown that.  

As the owner says in this report, the new brewpub will fit nicely into the beer scene in this part of town, linked by tram to Carlow's Urban Brewing, Guinness Open Gate and Rascals HQ, though it's also all but adjacent to Whiplash's Fidelity pub. That puts it in a prime position to get the cool kids and the beer geeks too.

Haymarket House, Smithfield, Dublin 7. Future home of Smithfield Brewing.

Secrets and mysteries

Hazy IPA and barrel-aged imperial stouts are very much the stock in trade at Lough Gill Brewing, and they're generally pretty good at both. Here are the latest examples.

The new New England-style IPA is called Mysterious Haze. It's the standard pale yellow, with custard-grade opacity. Your hops today are Galaxy and Cascade, and the former's orange-accented juiciness forms the aroma. The flavour is rather more savoury, suggesting red onion relish and salad leaves, the fruit showing up late, and briefly. After that swish of marmalade, there's little else to tell you about. While this looks like top tier haze, the flavour doesn't measure up. There's nothing off about it, but I think the hops don't suit it. These recipes tend to use more modern varieties, and that's not simply fashion. Lough Gill's beer don't normally want for boldness, so this plain affair is unusual.

It was only last summer that I encountered new stouts Emerald and Shamrock. The brewery wasn't long getting those into whiskey barrels and now the results are out.

Emerald Barrel Aged brings it across an imaginary style boundary, from an unaugmented 7% ABV export stout to a fully imperial 14.4% ABV. Wut? Did they check if the whiskey barrel was empty before putting the beer in? That's a hell of a jump. Oh wait. "Aged two years" says the can. Is this really based on the beer sold as Emerald? The barrel end of things could certainly disguise absolutely anything. It's very whiskey, with all the warm cereal notes, oodles of honey, and a kick of serious hard liquor on the end. The brewery knows what they're doing, however, so there's still plenty of space for the stout, giving melty dark chocolate pudding and frothy vanilla-laced latte. All of it is hella loud. While it's smooth not spiky, and appropriately rounded and mature-tasting, there's a lot of booze going on; a lot of heat and an almost cloying richness. I detect a little smoke too, the slightly salty iodine of fair Islay, but that's not mentioned on the label so I'm sure I imagined it. Regardless, this is a quality bee eh imp stou. If you like 'em spirit-forward, fill yer footwear.

Jumping from 7.5% ABV to 14.8%, Shamrock Barrel Aged is similarly supercharged with whiskey. I picked up a bit of smoke and little of the added coffee in the original, and that holds true for this version. The coffee is only really present in the aroma, and there it's sharing bandwidth with boozy dark sherry and a little too much soy-sauce umami. The flavour opens on calorific chocolate fudge sauce, though it isn't long before the umami arrives in. That's seasoned with dry oak smoke, overpowering the smooth sweetness and giving it a rasping rough finish. This is a more grown-up affair than the previous one; less like a dessert and more like a riffle through the humidor. It's still luxurious, with a beautifully full and soft mouthfeel, but after the aroma you have to work to find any chocolate, and I couldn't detect vanilla at all. There's a touch of honey from the Irish whiskey's input, but otherwise it's quite savoury. Whether that suits you is a matter of taste: it's still a first-rate imperial stout, one which takes full advantage of the barrel flavour palette. Don't expect much by way of pastry, however.

If anyone out there has first-hand experience of barrel-ageing stout, I would be interested in the technical details behind these massive ABV jumps, and I'll try and find out from the brewery next time I'm talking to someone from there (when's that taproom opening?). For now, they're just beers to enjoy, and don't worry too much about the dark secret of their creation.

A mountain to climb

Today's beers are from the unlikely brewery at the Caisleáin Óir Hotel in western Donegal: Errigal. While on-premises drinking is presumably the main goal, they also bottle and distribute as far as a few select off licences in Dublin. These came from Blackrock Cellar.

GRMA (Irish for "thx"), is a session, sorry, seisiún pale ale, and very seisiún indeed at only 3.5% ABV. It's pretty damn pale too, a wan straw shade with a dusting of unhelpful haze. It smells sweet, and a little syrupy, like a cheap strong lager. If they used any aroma hops, they didn't make it across to the east coast. It's as light as one would expect, and unmistakably watery. Plenty of fizz means it's cleansing and refreshing when cold. There is no hop flavour to speak of, leaving it with an air of pale mild or cream ale, styles I've never particularly cared for. That includes the same sickly syrup as found in the aroma, and a buttery slickness. This last element is why it wouldn't work as a session beer for me: there's an unpleasant smack of diacetyl with every sip, and there's only so much of that I'll tolerate. This needs more hops. GRMA ach ní-RMA.

I had hoped that a bit of hops in that would would help make the weissbier which was to follow more palatable. Oh well. With Bán you don't get a big fluffy weissbier head, making me suspect immediately that they've skimped on the all-important carbonation. It looks a bit sad in the glass, a dusty rusty gold with less haze than the preceding pale ale. There's a passable amount of banana in the aroma, bringing us back towards the style spec, likewise the 5.5% ABV, but that's as close as it gets. Flatness is the first thing that comes through on the first sip: not just flat for a weissbier, but barely carbonated at all. Then there's more of that butterscotch or toffee from the previous beer. Maybe it's meant to be a house quirk, but it tastes like bad beer to me. The yeast-derived banana makes a reappearance in the finish, adding little positive to the whole experience.

For beers in two quite different styles, from completely different brewing heritages, these tasted worryingly similar. I didn't have Errigal marked as one of those rural Irish breweries that turns out beer which is sub-homebrew grade, but I got that vibe here. Now maybe they're designed for a market with less sophisticated and whingey palates, and maybe the proprietor is perfectly happy with the product. But I can't help but opine that nobody's interest is served by beer as poorly put together as these ones.

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.

Accommodating everyone

Dublin's newly-instated The Hoxton hotel has been in the news for other reasons lately, but it falls upon your correspondent to report that there is also Beer of Interest in the sparsely chic groundfloor bar. Alongside the predictable macro dreck and some Rascals options, they have two lines of their own beer, brewed by London's Coalition Brewing. Des has the goods, of course, may he rest in peace.

There's something very British about lager at 4% ABV. Our lot seem to prefer adding a couple of fractional points when they're doing blonde and fizzy. So Hox Lager tells you by the strength where it's from. Still, it's a handsome looking pilsner: pure gold, Champagne sparkling, and with a very classy grass and herb aroma. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the low ABV lets the flavour down and it lacks a proper malt base to carry those noble hops. The flavour centres on watery fizz and you have to pay attention to catch the brief flash of basil and thyme. A sliver of dry waterbiscuit is as malty as it gets. Still, it's not terrible and doesn't fall into the bland house lager trap. There's a genuine Germanic character here, and crispness to beat the band. Should you wish for a lager with a little more substance, however, Rascals Jailbreak is four taps over.

Matching the lager is Hox Pale Ale, still modestly strong at 4.2% ABV. It's extremely pale and translucently hazy, looking like nothing so much as a witbier. I wonder if the visuals are why I got such a strong lemon tang from the flavour. They've certainly laid on the citrus-tasting hops, at an almost too strong level for the light ale base. That was a shock at first, but I got used to it quickly. This is far more assertive than I was expecting a hotel house beer to be. It's not all acid bitterness, and acridity is avoided via some softer lime oils and a sweetly juicy base, harnessing some of the good aspects of typical hazy pale ale. On the bad side, there's also a twang of gritty, savoury murk, but that isn't allowed interfere too much with the jolly, sunny zest. Quite a pleasant surprise, this, all told. Though at €4.50 for a half pint, it would want to be.

A phrase you won't hear much in Dublin these days is "fair play to The Hoxton", but I think it deserves credit for bringing a couple of better-than-average beers to its taps when it didn't have to; and putting them alongside quality local microbrews. Dublin's hotel boom may be destroying the fabric and character of the city, but maybe a good beer in a comfortable lounge makes it all worthwhile.