Gän-stal style!

I've been chasing the goose ever since I discovered Gänstaller's magnificent smoky masterpiece Affumicator in 2009. None of their other beers have quite lived up to it, but I was still delighted to see a selection of their cans landing in locally. Let's see what we have here.

First it's Gänstaller Helles. This looked to be a little dark for the style as I poured it, but in the glass it's a gorgeous rich, almost glowing, golden. Biscuits and bread for an aroma is par for the course and you have to wait for hops. They arrived in the flavour, bringing quite an assertive bitterness: boiled spinach, crisp sprouts and shredded red cabbage. Three of your five a day. The malt side is crisp too, bread crust rather than crumb, something I associate more with pilsner than Helles, but maybe that's just me. The texture is still appropriately soft even if the bitterness puts an unexpected edge on it. A dry and slightly metallic finish closes proceedings. I emptied my glass in pretty quick time while writing this, and I think that's the beer's main feature and raison d'être: you're meant to quaff it and order another, not write notes. Bigger cans, please, Mr Gänstaller.

Stronger and hazier is Gänstaller Zoigl. Not a real Zoigl, of course, but an "homage" to the beer culture of the Oberpfalz. It's a nicer word than rip-off. The flavour has a fuzziness to match the appearance and there's a sharp bitterness, similar to the Helles but more severe; waxy and earthy. What you get is your hop-forward pale lager but very much minus the clean crispness, which for me is a lot of the point. Were I drinking this at the source, poured from an heirloom wooden barrel by the brewer at a barely-commercial inn, I'm sure I'd have sung its praises, but a 440ml can in a Dublin backyard makes me feel less charitable. It's a rough and dirty lager. If that's how you like it, I won't judge you, but I generally prefer something more precise.

I couldn't figure out why the brewery had named its weissbier, Smaragdweiß, after a kind of conifer. It turns out that this is in the hopfenweiss style so maybe it's a gentle dig at what they think new-world hops taste like. Not that it's particularly hoppy. The aroma is a green-banana sharpness which perhaps suggests extra bittering but is still well within the parameters of standard weissbier. The appearance is not, however: it's clear of body and thin of head. What's going on? Bavarian weissbier tends to be richer and fruitier than northern knock-offs but this tastes altogether more Prussian than the norm, with a dry grainy rasp next to the banana and an abrupt finish. There's a resinous extra hop kick, but I would be surprised if they used any American varieties as it's much more grass than grapefruit. It's fine but nothing special and doesn't offer anything that the big names of Bavarian weissbier don't do better.

My quest for something as good as Affumicator continues. Actually, maybe the Irish importer would consider getting hold of a few cans of that?

Bockbier bugbear

This month's Session is being hosted by what I think is the world's longest-running beer blog, Jon Abernathy's Oregon-based The Brew Site. Our topic is bock, which is a bit of a four-letter word for me: monosyllabic and stark, conjuring up equally stark, harshly bittered, sticky golden beers. I do not usually have a fun time with German bock. Dutch autumn bock I do quite like, but I think that's out of bounds for today.

Instead of drinking it down like a big boy, I have to have my bock adulterated with a qualification. Maibock? Sometimes. Dunkelbock, sure. Weizenbock: getting better, and Doppelbock, yes please. Eisbock? Maybe too far. But you get the idea: the prefix is where a lot of the fun to be had with German beers is happening. The epitome is Gänstaller Bräu's truly epic Affumicator, which they badge stylistically as a driedoppelrauchbock. Pick the bones out of that, BJCP. That's the kind of bock I can do business with.

Unfortunately I've had only fleeting dalliances with Affumicator so I need something else to write about for this post. It was a difficult search for something new: bock-style beers aren't as common on the shelves in Dublin as they were seven or eight years ago. There was one hold-out, however. I had passed by Weissenoher's Bonator many times, having had an unpleasant experience with some of the brewery's other beers. In fact, they all had that harsh waxy musty German bitterness that is exactly what bothers me about bock. Bonator is a doppelbock, however, so surely that's a safe space?

On pouring, it struck me immediately as a little pale for the style: I was expecting dark brown instead of this burnished garnet amber. There's a strange and disconcerting mish-mash of aromas: herbs, caramel, acetone and twigs. Going in for the first mouthful I was apprehensive to say the least. The foretaste pummels the palate with equally dry and sticky cereals, then there's a whoosh of alcohol and a rasp of green noble hop flavour. Then suddenly it all calms down and integrates into a single stream of golden syrup and chocolate sauce. Intensely sweet but with echoes of the dusty grain and bitter hops to balance it. It's still as unsettling and difficult as the other Weissenoher beers, but it's interestingly complex with it, aided I'm sure by that whopping 8% ABV. With every mouthful I'm thinking "Ugh, I hate this" followed, after swallowing, by "That's pretty good actually." So I dunno. It's big and it's odd and it's quite different to most doppelbocks I've met.

I guess, like the totemic goats that usually adorn its marketing, bock has its uses, can even be quite cuddly, but is never to be fully trusted.

Where all roads lead

Following on from Monday's post on the Italian beers I found last month in Rome, this one is about the foreign selection. I did try to drink local as much as possible, but some things were just too interesting to pass up.

My reasoning behind choosing Lervig's Johnny Low in Il Maltese is that I had a whole evening of talking ahead of me and wanted something I could sip safely while waiting for the event to start. A Norwegian IPA at 2.5% ABV seemed like just the ticket. It's lovely too: pale yellow with loads of lemon sherbet. Yes, the body is watery but not in a bad way -- it adds to the quenching power and drinkability. In fact, it was tough going to keep sipping it, this beer virtually pours itself down your throat.

I'd been through most of Il Maltese's draught selection by the time I got to Hoepfner Porter, exported from Baden-Württemberg. It's a wan pale red colour and very sweet, to the point of sickliness. It lays on cherries and milk chocolate without the weight of body to support the strength of the flavours. Just a mildly dry finish and a sudden sharp burst of cherry sourness rescues it, but I wouldn't be rushing back for another.

Before leaving I got a small taste of Amager's Wookiee 9% ABV double IPA, before it all ran out. I can see why it's popular: pale blonde and with a super clean pithy hop flavour, unsullied by booze heat or crystal malt sweetness.

I mentioned on Monday that I found Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fà in the middle of celebrating German beer. It would have been rude not to join in. Besides, turning down a Schlenkerla beer I'd never tasted before is simply unthinkable. And so a large glass of Schlenkerla Fastenbier was acquired. Funny, I thought this style was usually super-strong, but this one is a mere 5.5% ABV, arriving a rich chestnut red colour. It has a lot in common with other beers from the Bamberg brewery: bags of beechwood smoke, of course, and a little bit of the tarryness you find in the Urbock, though not as pronounced. The real genius of this beer -- I opined to myself as the glass emptied itself more rapidly than one would expect for something so powerfully flavoured -- is the finish: there's virtually none. All the action happens while it's in your mouth, and when it's gone, it's gone. Which means you have to take another mouthful. And then order another glass when the first one empties. "Moreish" barely begins to cover it.

But I'm made of stronger stuff, me, and worked my way heroically across the taps. Freigest Salzspeicher caught my eye, a 6% ABV sour raspberry porter. This squirted flatly from the tap, forming a loose-bubbled head over a black body. A wary sniff revealed something that smells like the bottom of a punnet of elderly raspberries. The flavour is fresher, but still all raspberry and hardly any porter, only a tiny touch of dark roasted grain. The sourness kind of gets buried too: while the high attenuation is tasteable, the tartness of the raspberry dovetails very neatly with the inherent tartness of the beer and it's hard to tell which contributes what. It's an interesting experiment, but after the genius that is Schlenkerla it tasted like amateur hour.

There was an English stout on the handpumps: Siren's Sweet Dreams. This has a heady cocoa aroma tempered by the acidic tang of curing tobacco. The flavour is simpler, dominated by that chocolate and nicely smooth to drink. It's unusual for a beer that's not a pale ale to be worth it just for the aroma alone, but this is one of those.

I couldn't resist a swift tot of Gänstaller-Bräu Affumicator before moving on, an all-time favourite. Magic.

Later that evening, wandering alone in the depths of southern Trastevere I popped into Birrifugio for one. There's a small but eclectic selection in this vaguely English-style neighbourhood pub, with a beer each from Adnams, Carlow Brewing, Weihenstephaner, Dark Star and Amager on tap. What caught my eye, however, was Bayerischer Bahnhof Original Gose, as far as I know the only example of this style-of-the-moment brewed in the city most associated with it: Leipzig. It arrived looking and smelling like a simple witbier: hazy straw-coloured with mild herbal aromas. Its true nature is much more apparent on tasting as the salt and coriander are right up front giving it a lip-smacking crispness and offering cold ocean-grade refreshment. I'd loved to have stayed for another, and loved even more to be in a city where this is the sort of beer you get when you ask for a beer. I could drink a lot of its simple complexity.

But that's where this trip's beers end. A big thank you to Silvia and the team at Associazione Degustatori Birra for making it all possible. I did little more than scratch my major itches regarding Rome's craft beer pubs but I'm aware there's still plenty more to explore on future visits and that the local beer scene is expanding at a phenomenal pace. Forza la rivoluzione!

Taking care of business

It was a busy three days in Amsterdam. We arrived on Tuesday to glorious sunshine and, not used to such things, immediately scurried for the shade of 't Arendsnest. Among the beers we kicked off with was SNAB Pale Ale, a deliciously sherbety faux-American number. There's a light touch on the hops, but just enough to convey peaches and mild grapefruit to the drinker. Mrs Beer Nut's pale ale was Wiegeleir, a cloudy amber beer flavoured with apriccots. I didn't really latch on to the fruit in this, spotting orange blossom and bubblegum instead, with the whole overlaid with sharp and bitter yeast tones and a whiff of bleachiness. It's a complex beer but not always in the right directions.

Barry showed up on Wednesday and we planned the afternoon by the canal in Haven van Texel over the Texelse Dubbel. A light and fruity take on the Belgian dark ale standard, with almost a bit of citrus zest thrown in. No plums, figs or similarly heavy fruit, but a surprising amount of fruity banana esters. It's a lunchtime sort of dubbel.

At De Bekeerde Suster, my companions both went for the uninspiring house beers, but mine was a Deugniet tripel. Despite bottle conditioning it pours a very clear blonde with an aroma of fresh, juicy melons and succulent peaches. The flavour adds spicy orange notes to this, turning a little bit harsh at the end. Deugniet loses its charm as it warms, picking up cloying orange flavours like vitamin C tablets, but it's great beer right up until then. From there we headed to Gollem for a light pre-prandial. My wife chose Witkap Stimulo, a very pale cloudy beer with just a bit of lemon and a hint of herbs, but otherwise quite dull. Meanwhile, I was back with the safe bet of John Martin's Pale Ale.

With dinner put away, it was time for the main event. Amsterdam's newest specialty beer bar was packed. Elbowing my way to the bar I met Ron who was similarly engaged. With an armful of drinks each we made our way out to the yard.

Beer Temple specialises in American craft beer and the chief draw, I think, will be the presence of draught beer from Anchor, Left Hand, Great Divide and Flying Dog. I only got a chance to glance at the bottled menu, but it looked very impressive, with Southern Tier among the additions. Beer Temple provides a new focus for the beer tourist in Amsterdam and underlines the wonderful internationalism in the city's beer merchants, a feature which places Amsterdam above Brussels in my evaluation of European beer cities.

Among the samples we, er, sampled there was Left Hand's Blackjack Porter, a super-chocolatey treacle-thick black beer which, while very sweet, is filling and satisfying rather than cloying. Among the handful of non-Americans at the taps, there's a house beer commissioned locally for the bar. Tempel Bier is a blond ale with wonderful American hop flavours of the mild variety, imparting peaches, manadarins and bubblegum.

After a good old natter with 'Neen and a brief chat with Beer Temple proprietor Peter, and with regret that I couldn't find Rick who had suggested the whole thing in the first place, Barry, Ron, me and herself set off for In de Wildeman.

Order of the day here was a driedoppelrauchbock, weighing in at 9.4% ABV and going, naturally, under the name Affumicator. The nose is typically rauchbier-esque: smoky bacon and iodine to the fore; a shock followed by pleasing anticipation. It tastes as sweet as you might expect from a big doppelbock and is similarly sticky, but this is infused thoroughly with those big hammy rauchbier flavours and a bitter kick right at the end. I sat and sipped this for a while, enjoying every mouthful.

Among the other beers tried from Wildeman's massive selection, there was Mug, a spicy pale gold bitter with hops on the nose and a very Chouffe-ish peppery fruit character. Barry moved to Oesterstout, an imperial from Amsterdam's Scheldebrouwerij. I wasn't a fan: too much artificial candy flavour for my liking, like fake chocolate, with unpleasant fruity overtones. We called it a night soon after.

To kill the time next morning before the pubs opened, Barry and I went for The Heineken Experience. I was pleased to see that the picobrewery in the main hall (mentioned by Ron here) is still going, though he was too busy chatting up the American girls to tell us anything about his beer, and it wasn't on sale in the gift shop. The most interesting experience in the Experience happened at the tutored tasting, a slow and measured analysis of the lager. The sample we were given was not Heineken -- or if it was, it was Heineken with an extra complex dose of bitter and fruity hops. It was really quite tasty, but that was the last we saw of it: in the tasting bar at the end we were back to plain, dull, thin, tasteless Heineken. So at least they know how unpalateable their beers are.

Staying with Big Daddy H, our meanderings took us next to a crappy English theme bar where, out of sheer novelty value, I went for Murphy's Red. I assume this is brewed in the Netherlands as it hasn't been seen on these shores for many a year. The beer is a pale copper colour and watery as all hell, with just a sugary background and a nasty cardboard aftertaste.

And then it was lunchtime. Our restaurant gave particular promenance to 't IJ's beers and I took the opportunity to try Natte, the dubbel, having been denied it last time I was in the Netherlands. It's quite a beautiful beer: sharp and yeasty with that characteristic IJ brett flavour, but light enough to be easy-drinking and lip-smacking.

The weekend was drawing to a close and we finished where we came in, holed up in 't Arendsnest. Barry went for SNAB's Otter SB, a chewy, malt-driven pale beer which I found a bit stale overall. Mrs Beer Nut picked the La Trappe Bockbier. It's quite understated -- a bit of the expected caramel and toffee, with a very mild undercurrent of violet and lavender. After Barry departed for his train our last drinks were De Friese's Speltbier which is interestingly dry and grassy, while being spicy and herbal at the same time. The herb prize, however, goes to the hopless Jopen Koyt. It's a murky shade of fawn with mild spice on the nose but with lots of fascinating herb and spice flavours. I can't think of a better descriptor for it than "medieval" and reckon it would go great from a clay mug.

We were only in Amsterdam for a bit over two days, but as usual we crammed a lot into it. Too much for this post, in fact. More Dutch beer stuff coming up...