Budget destinations

I'm not in this for the clicks, but I have noticed that for some reason my blog posts about Aldi and Lidl beers are the most popular thing I write. It is a source of some dismay to one of such a refined palate as myself. And much as I hate to give the people what they want, there are very often new beers to try at the supermarket. Aldi tends to have the turnover and the most amusing knock-offs, but today's are Lidl's work, though very much in the same vein.

Birra Bionda (or "Bit of Beyond That", as it's rendered on Dublin's northside) is their  answer to Moretti. The cheery chap on the parchment-coloured background isn't wearing a hat, so it's a completely different look to Heineken Italy's original. This is stronger than Moretti, at 5% ABV, and it poured with a surprise Kellerbier haze. The label gives us no clue as to what country it was brewed in, but there's a definite German influence. The texture is candyfloss-soft, making it feel like a pillowy Munich Helles, and there's a lot of pale malt in the flavour. Then, however, it turns quite Prussian, introducing a spiky and dry herbal bitterness. Unfortunately they don't balance; there's just too much of both, making the beer loud and rough and lacking any sense of Mediterranean chill. I honestly couldn't tell you whether this is a result of a corner-cutting industrial brewery, or a smallscale operation that doesn't know what it's doing; nor whether it's better or worse than Moretti, a beer that's too forgettable to have left any mark on my memory. I didn't especially care for it, however, and I'm sure there's better lager in Lidl.

Is San Martínez one of them? This is borrowing the style of San Miguel, a heavy lager which I actively dislike, though I wasn't expecting this to be any way similar. The ABVs are close, however, with this slightly lighter at another 5% ABV. Are we sure it's a different beer to the above? It is still cloudy, though less so than the foregoing, and it's darker: close to San Miguel's deep amber but not quite reaching it. This still does the aggressive hops vs. sticky malt thing, but it's gentler and nearly palatable, were it not for the plasticky twang of hop extract. This is definitely a big brewery making lager as cheaply as it can. Drink it cold enough and that's not a problem, but it isn't one of those actually-good discount supermarket lagers.

Neither of these are. And isn't it a shame that the type of beer worth copying to get the most drinkers is the current trend for vapid, sunny-clime-coded industrial lager? Why can't everyone like good beer instead?

Them'uns

Something happened in Paris a decade ago. I don't know what it was, but it was significant enough for Our Brewery to name a beer after it. Ten Years Since Paris is a Rotbier, which I confess isn't a favourite style of mine, though I remind myself that this brewery doesn't always brew according to a homebrewer's level of tight fidelity to style, which is good. This one is clear, looking polished, not rustic. It's a bright copper shade, and little is given away by the aroma. The flavour is more full-on, and quite sweet, with notes of red cherry and Norn Irish favourite, brown lemonade. The finish is funky and earthy, a stark contrast with the sweetness, fully on-spec for Rotbier, and one of the reasons I dislike it. The mix of caramel and mushrooms does not sit well with me. It does seem like an accurate rendering of Nuremberg's flagship style of red lager, however, so if you actually enjoy them (not just the charming Franconian taverns that serve them) you'll likely enjoy this.

At the same strength of 5.2% ABV is All This Is That, an American-style wheat beer. "A sunshine beer built for hop lovers" says the can, which sounded lovely on a blustery March day. It certainly looks sunny: a bright and wholesome yellow with a light misting of haze. The aroma is sweet and lemony, like drizzle cake or meringue pie. That gets somewhat concentrated in the flavour, starting with an almost cloying perfume blend, exuding lavender and rosewater in quantity, plus some bonus pineapple. A pithy bite arrives later and goes some way to offset the floral excesses, and the quick clean finish helps too. The wheat pulls its weight by supplying a pillow-soft body with a dense shaving-foam head. At the outset, I had thought this was going to be a bigger, more characterful affair. In the end, it turned out to be subtle, but still bright and cheery, and definitely full of sunshine.

The inevitable hazy IPA follows, although Yes It Is is barely hazy at all: a bright and shining polished gold colour. That's topped with plenty of fine foam; too much for my undersized branded glass. There's a strong tropical buzz from the aroma, resolving into a very pure and sweet pineapple juice flavour. Not much else happens, however. 6.3% ABV makes it quite a sticky and viscous affair, though that merely serves to turn the initial kick of pineapple juice into pineapple candy by the end. It still manages to finish cleanly, the busy carbonation giving it an almost lager-like crispness with little by way of aftertaste. No undesirable gritty or garlicky haze attributes are present, but that's because there's no haze neither. This is a passable tropical style IPA: easy and straightforward, with no particular complexity. I can see haze enthusiasts being upset by its clarity, while the dominant sweetness means it's far from suited to the west coast purists. Being of neither tribe, I enjoyed it in a noncommittal way, and was bemused by the irony of its name.

A double IPA to finish, named A Hymn We Used To Believe. It looks nicely west-coast, clear and amber, pouring a little viscous, without much head. The only thing that doesn't say proper old-style American double IPA is the measly 7.9% ABV. It smells fresh and zesty, of lime oil and spicy pine resin. I was right about the texture: it's almost syrupy thick, with only the faintest of sparkle, and I think there's enough warmth for it to pass as a couple of percentage points stronger. The flavour isn't as intense as the aroma suggested it might be, but there's plenty going on. It is primarily bitter, in the proper west-coast way. Hop classics Simcoe, Cascade and Columbus are bringing their earthy and resinous spike. Modern fruity hops Idaho 7, Nectaron and Krush are also billed, but while there's a certain faint tropicality to the aroma, I don't get their contribution to the taste. Regardless, it's quite enjoyable, and does a good job of conjuring the American IPAs of the olden days (2010). This is a pleasant note on which to conclude.

The brewery may not be hung up on style accuracy, but it does show a homebrewer's fondness for variety and quality. Even when they do commonplace styles like haze and DIPA, there's a creative flair which the breweries who make more of them don't always show. This small operation in a Northern Irish backwater punches above its weight.

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.