Kegs and chains

They sure love a chain restaurant in England. They have loads of them, and there's something about a town like Bournemouth -- lots of visitors looking for something familiar, perhaps -- which seems to concentrate them. I did not go there with the intention of exploring exotic English chain restaurants. It just kind of turned out that way.

There is, for example, a Brewhouse & Kitchen, a chain of brewpub-restaurants that felt to me like a modern successor to the Firkins of old, and memorably described by Boak & Bailey as "a bit like business class Wetherspoons." Now there's a demographic to aspire to. I wasn't there to soak up the ambiance, however. I was there to try the beers, brewed on-site on the smart brewkit out front.

I began on the seasonal Kölsch, 5% ABV and appropriately clear and golden. The lovely malt aroma smells like brewing itself, though the flavour is rather plainer. It tastes crisp and a little grainy, meaning it's fully to-spec for anyone who's never drank really good Kölsch. This is in the genre of passable brewpub lager but offers nothing better, or indeed worse, than that.

An American-style pale ale was my next one: Yankee Hack. This is also blonde coloured and quite watery in the mouth, in need of more malt substance. The hops are at least plentiful, bringing zingy orange jelly first, and then a strange bitter spicing which I've recorded as aniseed and white pepper, though your perception may differ on that one. That's fine for a while, but before I had finished my half pint there was a kind of soapy twang emerging. I would not be running back to this one.

There were a few handpulls on the go as well, and herself took a chance on the bitter, Churchill's Fall. It's an unattractive murky amber colour, immediately suggesting a certain lack of cask-conditioned polish. The aroma is sweet and jammy but it doesn't go anywhere interesting with that on tasting. I found it smooth and bland, with more of that soapiness and not a peep out of the hops. More than anything, it reminded me of those execrable nitrogenated red ales from the 1990s. Caskffreys.

I get what they're trying to do here, but the calibre of the beer just isn't up to snuff, much like with most chain brewpubs. These three examples suggest that they're being overambitious in trying to make mass-appeal beers in-house.

At the bottom of the town, near the seafront, there's a development with a wide selection of chain venues in a symbiotic relationship with the Odeon cinema. There's a BrewDog, of course, but I didn't go in. Dinner was courtesy of The Real Greek, which has two beers of its own, brewed by I know not whom.

Alpha Omega Lager turned out to be the better of the pair. There's a solid malt-driven centre here, making me think of Czech pale lager in particular, and working well as a beer for food. Only the finish lets it down a little, arriving too quickly and making me realise that the high quality effect is superficial and that it's likely made very much on the cheap. I still place it on the good side of ordinary, and for the house lager in a chain restaurant it proved better than expected.

Sadly, I can't say the same for Alpha Omega Pale Ale. My first disappointing impression was that it's quite similar to the lager, being very light-bodied and pale. Some mild pine resin sparked a modicum of interest but then faded away to be replaced by a persistent sour zest, like dilute Jif lemon, sharp and astringent, and not at all enjoyable. Again, I'm blaming the accountants for this one: it tastes very cheap. I'm not sure the place really needs a second house beer in addition to the ersatz holiday lager.

From there, we classed it up at Côte, an upmarket sort of generic French bistro. They had upmarket French beer too: Meteor Lager, from France's oldest-established independent brewery. 4.5% ABV and arriving in a 33cl bottle, I suspect this has no pretensions beyond being a Gallic answer to Nastro Azzurro. It's of a much higher quality, however, being both crisply plain for refreshment and having a slightly sweet malt middle which becomes richer and more pronounced as it warms. So here's another chain making a good choice when picking its token lager.

Moving on, there is a craft-oriented beer bar in Bournemouth which isn't part of a chain: All Hail Ale. It claims to be a micropub, and is in a converted shop, but lacks the other common micropub features like cask-only beer, no music and early closing. Still, it's intimate, friendly and overall a nice place to drink.

From the keg selection I chose the charmingly named Post Mortem #2 by Edinburgh brewer Barney's. It's a sour ale aged in Pinot Noir barrels and, though golden, does taste substantially of red Burgundy wine, of ripe plum and fresh juicy red grapes. Added to this is what I suspect is the result of Brettanomyces yeast action: a sweet lychee and apricot effect. It's tangy rather than sour and I got no discernible contribution from the oak barrels; neither spices nor vanilla nor wood sap. There's enough acidity to make it mouthwatering and overall it's tremendous fun. You know, like an autopsy.

And for herself, the Baltic porter from Brass Monkeys down Kent way, called Time & Tide. The ABV checks out, being 8.4% but the flavour isn't quite to style. Chocolate on the aroma is fine, and then the flavour is full of chocolate as well, missing the proper herbal bitterness which should sit alongside. There's a faint metallic tang which I guess is where that's gone, but it's not a big enough feature for my liking. The texture is a bit off too. I don't know if this is really a lager but it doesn't feel like one. I suppose if all you wanted was a beefed-up version of English porter, this will do the job.

So we come to the beery bookends. On arrival at Bournemouth station I stopped in at an Asian supermarket and came out with a bottle of Yanjing U8 which I then drank on the pier. This is only 2.8% ABV and is somewhat under-attenuated with it, but not in a bad way. The residual sweetness gives it a fluffy, full-bodied, candyfloss character which I found quite charming, even satisfying, to drink. I recommend chugging it quite quickly, however, because that does not require much warmth to start turning cloying.

And then the biggest surprise of the weekend came at the Molson Coors-dominated bar at Southampton Airport. The best on offer was Sharp's Atlantic. I've never really got on well with Sharp's, even at the height of their pre-takeover pomp. I fully expected this keg pale ale to be a watery metallic mess. Instead, it has some very well laid-out zesty mandarin notes with an almost New England level of sweet juice. That's balanced by a dry middle which makes it an excellent thirst-quencher, even if it's a little overclocked at 5% ABV. They have bottles of this in my local supermarket which I've never touched. I must find out if it's the same beer inside, because the draught version is a real charmer.

Here endeth the session. You needn't put Bournemouth high on your beer bucket list but, like almost everywhere, there's good and interesting stuff to be found, despite the ongoing demise of good beer and good pubs that we're constantly hearing about.

The Big Three

Today's post harks back to the early days of Irish microbrewing, when the producers felt that the path to success was to copy what the mainstream was doing. As a result, every beer that came out was either a pale lager, a red ale or a stout. Things are very different nowadays, but those three styles are still around, even if they're not produced at the same rate as the myriad variations on pale ale. I've picked a handful to see how things are at the old school.

We'll start at Dublin City Brewing. Well, sort of. Even though their cans have been claiming the beer is brewed at the new facility in Parnell Street, company representatives are regularly in the media explaining they brew under contract and their own brewery will be commissioned any day now. One or the other, lads. Anyway, Pioneer Pilsner is their first limited edition, designed to be a hoppy cut above their core Liberator lager. Its rich golden colour suggests to me that they're going for something Czech style, and the malt-driven flavour confirms it for me. This is no crisp and grassy number but a smooth and biscuity experience. There is a smattering of fruit esters on top of this, but it's not too disturbing and adds to the enjoyable chewy character of the beer. While it's not exactly how I like my pils, it's a hard one to fault, other than on that questionable provenance.

The OGs of Dublin microbrewing also have a new pilsner on the scene. Porterhouse Hammer is hard to come by: you'll find it on the brewery's web shop, and I got my can at their off licence in town, but otherwise it doesn't seem to be out there. "Just like a pilsner should be" is the bold promise on the can, and at 5% ABV they're not skimping on the alcohol. It's quite a dark shade of gold, heading almost for amber, with a generous topping of fine white foam. The aroma is biscuit malt, with a tangy and almost vinegary counterpoint. The carbonation is low, showing only the faintest tingle. That vinegar thing -- white, sharp -- is present in the foretaste. Might this be why the beer isn't more widely available? It doesn't totally ruin it -- to the rescue comes a grass and wax bitterness and a grain-husk dryness. It's inescapably tangy, though, in a way that pilsner should not be. Lager has never been a Porterhouse strong point, and this one may be in need of a do-over.

Hope has gone the Czech route more explicitly with Limited Edition 24: Bohemian Pilsener. There is a little haze to the gold here, and the hops get more of a look-in than in the above. The grassiness is intense, shading over into lemon rind and hard wax. It lingers long on the palate, almost oily in intensity. There's just enough malt weight to balance this -- it's a sufficient 5% ABV. And despite the strong contrasting flavours there's a clean finish so you're done with the experience pleasingly quickly. It's not as well integrated as the real Czech thing, going for bold and brash instead of smooth. This is very much a craft take on the style, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Can art of the year so far is this beauty from Western Herd on their Loop Head pilsner. The beer inside, 4.5% ABV and hopped with Perle and Saaz, is lightly hazed again and smells very herbal, beyond Saaz's damp grass and into sage or eucalyptus territory. Crispness is promised on the label and fully delivered: it's beautifully clean and nicely dry despite a slight spongecake vibe from the malt and a soft texture. The hops aren't overdone and the elements are very well integrated. Inspecting it closely I get hints of spiced red cabbage, fresh spinach and pine nuts. Really, though, it's a beer for quaffing -- perfect session material. "2021" beams the lighthouse on the can. This deserves to continue shining longer than that.

With Irish breweries clearly capable of great lagers, it's a shame it tends to be an occasional novelty rather than something they all have in the core ranges. I blame the drinking public, of course.

On to the reds then. There aren't anywhere near as many of these around as there used to be, and breweries don't seem to feel under any obligation to brew them. A ticker seeking exclusively Irish reds in Ireland would have a hard time of it.

We'll stay with Western Herd for the first one. Their original range included one called Fox Catcher, at 5.3% ABV. Its place has now been taken by Atlantic at a more normal Irish red strength of 4%. It's quite a dark example, verging on brown. The aroma has that beery quality particular to red ales and darker bitters: lots of tannin with metallic old-world hops and a faint sticky caramel sweetness. It's all quite subtle, so the flavour was a surprise: it's intensely bitter, and almost acrid. The zinc and tin hop character sparks on the tongue and continues to smolder late into the experience. There's a softer toffee side too, but I was half way through before my palate had adjusted enough to let me taste it. There are no technical flaws here; I'm certain it's as the brewer intended it, but it's far too much of a workout for me. Maybe I'm not a big enough fan of red ale to go dictating how it should taste, but for me it should be mellow and easy-going. This is the opposite of that.

Solas Red is brewed by Rye River for Tesco and comes with a €2 price tag on the half-litre bottle. You get a handsome glassful for that: a limpid garnet colour topped by a lasting off-white foam. The aroma is bitter and roasty, and very grown-up: definitely your granddad's sort of beer. It may as well be wearing slippers and smoking a pipe. I was all ready for a charming retro experience, but... the bitterness. It's gastricly sharp, tasting almost vomit-like to begin. On the fade-out that turns to harsh tangy metal, which is less unpleasant, perhaps, but still far from enjoyable. And then in the middle there's the intense sweetness of ersatz milk chocolate with some instant coffee and strawberry jam stirred in. It's like they assembled all the elements of good red ale, but used the cheapest and nastiest version of each. I was thoroughly sick of it by the half way point, but at least the lacing on the glass was pretty. This beer is much more fun to look at than to drink.

Neither of the reds did it for me. I have no reason to miss the style then, I guess.

Now stout I would miss. And stout is still plentiful among local breweries. What I'm looking at today is your classical Irish variety, built for session drinking with no fancy ingredients. Few brewers are turning new ones of these out.

The first is from The Porterhouse, and it's very specifically one with no fancy ingredients. Porterhouse Irish Stout is the Oyster Stout they've been brewing since 1996 only minus the molluscs. I've long loved the velvety chocolate effect of Oyster so was fascinated to see how that would hold up in the changed recipe. At 4.6% ABV it occupies the middle spot between their Plain and XXXX. The aroma is certainly chocolate, with some toffee sweetness added in. It's a long time since I last had bottled Oyster, but one would miss the smoothness of the draught nitro version. This carbonated one has a pointy quality that doesn't sit well with the flavours. The milk chocolate is definitely there, though, with a minty herbal tang and a layer of hard toffee. Given a moment to warm up and flatten out it's even creamy, like the original. While there's nothing fancy going on, it's a well-made session stout and all the better for the presentation in a 500ml bottle. If the thought of oysters had been putting you off before, I strongly recommend getting hold of this.

It's back to dodgy provenance again for the last one. I am unconvinced that Sullivan's brews Black Marble on its pilot kit in Kilkenny, rather than above at Dundalk Bay where most of their production happens, though I'm happy to be corrected on that. At 5.1% ABV it's substantial, so I was expecting to enjoy it. It's a pleasingly dense black with a firm head the colour of old ivory. Bitterness, both roasted and herbal, forms the aroma, and on tasting too, it's bitter. You can add coffee to the mix, and a little of a lactic sour tang of the sort found in Guinness. It's very old-fashioned tasting, eschewing chocolate and latte and everything else sweet and cuddly, going instead for boiled veg, old tweed, liquorice and ready-rubbed. The finish is long and pinches the tongue cheekily with its acidity. Creamy this ain't, but it works. Though perhaps not as bitter as the likes of Porterhouse's XXXX, it's on that continuum. By the looks of things this is mostly intended as a draught beer and I hope I can find a tap once normality resumes. A large bottle from the cooler was great, but a pint would be sublime.

There was no nostalgia for me at the end of this set. Good pilsner and solid stout will always have their place, but nothing beats variety. I'm very glad I have the opportunity to leave and come back to drinking beers like this. Now, what IPAs do you have?