Waiting for GoDOT

Back in June, DOT Brew announced, grandly, the launch of a new core range of beers. I reviewed the first few when I got them and figured I would catch up with the stragglers -- amber ale and double IPA -- in a few weeks when they hit the shops. The DIPA followed close on their heels but I had to wait for the amber, and drink a few DOT one-offs while I did so. Now in late November I've started regarding Easy Amber as the Godot of Irish beer and I have a huge collection of tasting notes from some of what DOT put out over the last five months. Time to catch up. We might even get a different amber ale on the way through.

The one shoe that did drop is Alto, a double IPA at the de rigueur 8% ABV. It's not totally opaque, letting some orangey light through, which I appreciate. It smells quite sweet and syrupy, like a melted ice pop, though with hints of citric bitterness and lime in particular. The flavour continues in that sharply bitter direction, hitting up against a big malt sweetness that has nothing to do with the haze. I quite like this west-coast angle, even though it's plainly not what the beer is meant to be from the description. There's nothing silly going on here and as such it's exactly the sort of double IPA that one should put into regular production.

Among the special editions, then, first there was Got Fruit?, a sour ale with raspberry, cherry and peach. Although 4.4% ABV, it's very thin, with a knock-on effect on the flavour. You get a quick flash of the raspberry, a brush of cherry juice, and then it's done. The base beer behind it is at least actually sour, though it's in the grainy way, reminding me of Berliner Kindl Weisse. I suppose that's authenticity of a sort. I'm glad it's not thick or overly sweet, but I think a properly tart bite would have made it into something more interesting. But then I always think that.

DOT joined Lough Gill on the roster of small brewers who supply Aldi, a supermarket that could do with upping its game in the beer stakes. A pair of IPAs dubbed the "Spin Off Series" landed in early July and the Session IPA sat in my fridge for a further month. That gave the sediment plenty of time to settle to the bottom of the can and I even managed to keep most of it out of the glass. It's still pretty hazy though, while also thin-looking, visually agreeing with the 3.2% ABV. The aroma is bright and freshly lemony, suggesting carefree summer drinking, and while it's light-bodied this is definitely not unpleasantly thin nor harsh. The zesty zing continues in the flavour, joined by a touch of savoury garlic but mostly staying true to the lemon with even a little extra vanilla complexity rounding it out. As a summer session beer it's perfect: fully flavoured and decent value at under €2 the can. I'm much too late to recommend this as a summer barbecue crowd pleaser, but hopefully other people found that out by themselves, and stored it upright in the ice bucket.

That shipped alongside a 5.8% ABV IPA called Side Step. It looks New Englandy and smells, too, of ripe peaches and mangoes. The texture is rich and rounded, while the flavour puts the tropical fruit first, in a concentrated and slightly syrupy way. I say all this in a certain tone of surprise as we're promised rye in the ingredients and there's really not much rye character. There's a certain savoury side that could be classified as "grassy", from a distance if you squint, but it's no sharp and squeaky rye IPA. As long as you're ready for something tropical and mostly sweet, this is lovely. There's a heft, a heat and a density that makes it quite grown-up, aside from the fruit salad. It took me a good half of the can to figure out if I liked it, but it gets the seal of approval. Good choice, Aldi.

They came back for a second round of Spin Offs last week, and I'll start with Alpha Amber. Indeed, as well as the unfulfilled promise, DOT had an amber ale in the line-up early on but it's not a style we see much of. This one is 5% ABV and more a murky brown than red or amber. The aroma is on point, however, exuding smooth caramel laced with mild orange-peel citrus. So it's no US-hopped powerhouse, then, despite the presence of Columbus, Citra and Chinook. Instead the flavour offers quite a gentle blend of glacé cherries, fruitcake and tea. There is a sizeable dollop of dreggy grit hanging around in the finish as well, unfortunately. If you've got one on hand I'd suggest leaving it somewhere cold for a week or two to clean it up, as I did with the Session IPA. It's still good though, and I doubt that anyone who has missed amber ale will object to a bit of dreg here and there.

The companion piece is, like many a stout I'm sure, called Dark Side. They've added vanilla, and at a mere 4.2% ABV for the base beer, that strikes me as a brave move. It's a little pale too, the light shining redly through it. The aroma is properly stouty, however: a lovely waft of warming roast untroubled by the vanilla. So it goes with the taste, which is properly dry and actually refreshing. It is a little thin, and I genuinely couldn't decide whether that was a flaw or a drinkability enhancement. I had finished the beer before I figured it out so I guess that answers that question. I don't know that the vanilla is necessary but it's not overdone and doesn't get in the way. I approve, and at Aldi prices it's excellent value.

In March DOT did a barrel aged pilsner for Teeling and now it seems there's one for everybody in the audience as two more exclusives arrived in quick sequence in August. The first was another Redmonds collaboration, and it was Jimmy Redmond himself, apparently, who recommended the use of a Marsala barrel. So it goes. The result -- Barrel Aged Pilsner -- is 5% ABV. Immediate pilsner points get deducted for it being almost completely flat. That doesn't ruin it, but it would be better with a little sparkle to lift the flavour. Said flavour is delicious and really emphasises the fortified wine, tasting more of a mature pale sherry to me, but what would I know? There's ripe and juicy raisins and well as dry splintery oak, plus plenty of bone dry white wine. What with the flatness, it loses sight of the pilsner side completely, but honestly I forgot it was supposed to be there: a clean lager base is nothing other than a canvas on which all the fun wine barrel patterns and swirls are projected.

Literally the next day, Craft Central announced the arrival of their DOT Oak Conditioned Pilsner, at 5.5% ABV. It looks like an unfiltered kellerbier type job, orange and hazy. The aroma is proper unadorned pils, with lemon zest and dry grass on a dry cracker base. There's just a teeny hint of oaky vanilla and a touch of squashy grape, but otherwise it's crisp, clean and refreshing pilsner. It works! Squinting at the small print I see that this isn't barrel aged at all; they've merely left oak cubes bobbing in it for a while. That makes a big difference, letting the lager be a lager, and a very good one in the wholesome rustic style. I would even go so far as to say that the oak added something worthwhile. 

These two are two very different and opposite sides of the oak-and-pils equation. I would never have thought such creativity was possible in such a niche space, but there I go underestimating DOT again. When they came back to Teeling it was with yet another barrel aged pilsner.

This is called Joining the Dots, 5.2% ABV and hazy orange again. The barrels are of white wine origin, having been subsequently used for malt and grain whiskey. There's a lot of fruit in the aroma, mixing soft white grape with more piquant citrus peel, plus a sweet layer of oak. All of that comes through in the flavour, which is quite intense. I think the barrel side gets a bit cloying, adding a honey stickiness that's totally out of place in pils. This beer is complex, no doubt, but it comes at the expense of subtlety. Again it's interesting to see yet another direction in which barrel-aged pils can go, though I'd prefer less influence from the particular barrels DOT has chosen here.

More double IPA? Go on then. Ah-Ah-Oh is full-on New England: totally opaque and almost glowing with opalescence. No juice in the aroma, though, and it smells quite dry and grainy. Still the body is properly big and fluffy as befits 8.2% ABV. But just like the aroma is understated, the flavour is seriously understated, with only a vague orange peel and red cabbage character. Citra, Strata and Centennial are not normally this reticent. On the plus side, while searching the flavour for hops I found a nice spicy side: nutmeg and black pepper, if you look hard enough. Overall, though, this isn't great. I wanted big flavour from a strong IPA and for whatever reason that's not on offer here. I'm sure the name wasn't meant to express an anticlimax but that's what I got.

As everyone who matters knows, Dublin's top beer bar UnderDog has re-opened at The Legal Eagle. You will once again be seeing lots of its TeKu glasses on these pages in the future. On opening night they were pouring DOT's Coffee Milk Stout, an 8.2% ABV job that's absolutely loaded with essence of coffee, to the point where it tastes more like a Tia Maria than a stout. The milk side isn't shy either, adding a sweet softness that brilliantly offsets the coffee's jangling bitterness. It doesn't happen often, but big silly stouts can be classy and balanced as well, and this is one of those.

We go big to finish, with a 12% ABV stout. I was particularly interested in Imperial Stout Potstill as I'm a fan of pot still whiskey, although I haven't tried Teeling's, which presumably supplied the barrels here. It's a uniform black colour with a skim of cappuccino froth on top. As with the pils above, there's an unsubtle early contribution from the wood: a strongly oaky aroma, though laced with chocolate. The flavour is very nicely integrated, however, seamlessly blending dark chocolate and espresso stout characteristics with sweeter honeycomb and fine vanilla cream. It's marvellously smooth with very little alcohol heat and very easy drinking as a result. The barrel does a great job of adding a certain enhancement without going overboard. Much as I like pot still whiskey, I'm glad this beer didn't wind up tasting directly of it. Instead it's an easy-going sipper with all the great things about imperial stout, and more.

That's... probably enough DOT for now. If the core-range amber ever does show up, I'll be sure to let you know.

Well, Estonia when you're trying to be so good

It must be a hard life for Põhjala, out there in the world of craft beer, representing Estonia almost single-handedly. Still, even though they're about the only Estonian brewery one sees around the place, they generally make good beers and I was pleased to see them arriving into Ireland with a handful of new-to-me offerings.

The set begins with Prenzlauer Berg, described merely as "raspberry sour" but which I assume is their take on a Berliner weisse mit Schuss. I'm guessing they weren't thinking beyond the mass-market Berliner Kindl version because this is very plain fare. It's thin bodied even for a 4.5% ABV sour ale, and the raspberry syrup absolutely dominates the flavour, sweet and soft, covering almost all of the beer beneath. A faint dry graininess, just like Berliner Kindl Weisse has, is the only indication of beeriness, arriving very late in the process and I honestly can't detect anything I'd describe as sour. Full marks for stylistic accuracy, I guess, but few for making an enjoyable beer.

Staying (theoretically) sour, Orange Gose is next. I wouldn't have thought that the tall head is typical of gose, but then neither is orange. The label is one of those annoying ones with lots of languages but the full ingredients only in German. At least we get to know that there is salt and coriander in here, plus rye and orange. It's a pale shade of orange under the foam and the aroma is a strange sort of plasticky sweetness, meaning the fruit extract may not have been a great idea. But the flavour is clean nonetheless, and actually quite jolly. There's a decent poke of sourness all the way through, a little seasoning from the salt, and although it's dry there's nothing I would assign to the rye or coriander. And then there's a subtle note of orangeade right on the finish for a sunny, Aperol Spritz kind of vibe. 5.5% ABV is maybe a little on the high side for something so simple and easy-going, but that's a minor quibble. My faith in Põhjala's souring abilities is restored. So how about their hopping?

A New England IPA follows, by the name of Kosmos. 5.5% ABV again, which is weak for this sort of thing, and it's not really fully hazy, showing more of a witbier mistiness. Banging fresh hops in the aroma though, right? Right? Sorry princess, it smells quite savoury: an earthy mushroom funkiness with a splash of sesame oil. The flavour is a little sweeter but it never makes it as far as fleshy tropical fruit. Instead there's mild fruit candy up front before a garlicky finish and aftertaste which coats the palate unpleasantly. It's frustratingly close to the bouncy juicebomb I'm certain it was intended to be, but the magic is missing.

Would there be any magic in their double IPA? That's Albini, 8% ABV and brewed with Simcoe, Citra and HBC 630, an experimental variety that seems to be doing well on the hazy scene. And this one has "hazy" on the label but once again the beer is only just. There's a mix of summer berries in the aroma: strawberry and both black and maraschino cherry. That sweet red-cherry skin effect is central in the flavour, set on quite a hot base that gives it a cough medicine air -- not unpleasant but not what one expects from a hazy DIPA. The finish is all pink bubblegum for a different sort of intense stickiness. It's definitely unusual and my next question was whether or not I liked it. In the end I came down in favour. It's a sipper; its heat is more intense than even 8% ABV suggests, but if its treated more like a barley wine it works. Savour it slowly and let the flavours unfold. There's plenty to enjoy here once you've let go of any style-based expectations.

Põhjala is not a brewery for drinkers with style-based expectations. I feel they got lucky with both of their wins here. It was certainly an interesting set to work through, but I also think their imperial stouts are a safer bet, in general.

Gone native

With Stone Brewing's Berlin plant in full swing now, they've not only adopted the local beer style, in White Ghost Berliner weisse, they've adopted German labelling habits, putting important information like the name of the beer and its alcoholic strength in the tiniest possible writing. Still, a Berliner weisse that they didn't try and be clever with is to be welcomed, even if it is a bit strong at 4.7% ABV.

It pours a beautiful white-gold colour, though doesn't seem particularly interested in forming a head. The fizz level is correspondingly low. I love the aroma of lemon zest and spicy saltpetre, almost reminiscent of a mature geuze. They've hit the classic (or at least last-weisse-standing Berliner Kindl) flavour points by giving it a mild but present sourness and then dry husky wheat behind it. The slightly sweaty tone in the very finish is all part of that. Overall it's beautifully refreshing and quaffable. And yes, you can add a dash of woodruff syrup if you wish.

The bold text at the top says "True Authentic Berliner Weisse" and for once with Stone, that's not just bluster.

Siren call

There are more Siren beers coming into Dublin than I can keep up with, a phenomenon which delights me. The importer is also the management of The Beer Market so that's where I've encountered most of them, including...

Siren and Omnipollo Life's a Peach, a 6.4% ABV IPA which tastes like the union of a marijuana bud and a pineapple: heavy and resinous in texture and flavour, but with a breezy tropical fruit zing bursting out of the oils. It delivers a lovely fresh hop sensation which coats the palate without getting too sticky or cloying and without any trace of bitterness or harsh acidity. Added lactose and peaches? Who cares? This is just a pure quality IPA with no perceptible extra weirdness.

Sticking with the orangey IPAs, Dippy & The Equinox is a double IPA Siren produced with the help of Oregon brewery Boneyard. It presents dense and opaque, and innocently pale. However, it explodes violently on the palate, shedding a napalm bitterness that shocks at first and fades only gradually. The flavour it brings with it is a beautiful but deadly mix of gunpowder and mandarins. The fruit doesn't last quite as long as I'd like it to, getting replaced by a rather harsh waxyness after a short while. Overall, though, a beautifully constructed complex hop powerhouse.

With this sort of hit rate there just had to be a failure, and it came in the form of Liquid Monstrous, a beefed up version of Siren's rather tasty red IPA Liquid Mistress. Its appearance did it no favours at all: a very muddy red-brown. The aroma started well, with zingy orange sherbet, but it was no surprise to get a waft of mucky yeast sludge with that as well. It doesn't taste yeasty, mind, though there was a definite gritty quality in the texture. Instead it's hot and sharply bitter, big hops being part of that, but there's also a coffee-like bitterness from, I assume, the dark malts. Cherry fruit flavours lighten it only slightly, but it wasn't enjoyable drinking and lacked the usual bright and clear flavours I've come to expect from Siren beers, even the hazy ones.

We switch over to The Porterhouse next. Calypso showed up as their €4 bottled special a while back and that was enough to draw me in to try it. This is a 4% ABV Berliner weisse, dry-hopped with varieties that vary from batch to batch. Code G377 tells me I got one with Mosaic. It poured clearer than I expected, with just a slight haze through the gold. The head dissipates quickly, the millpond surface giving off enticing aromas of lemon sherbet, dank resins and the promise of a puckering sourness too. The sour leaps to the front of the queue on tasting, a big smack of tangy vinegar. But in proper Berliner weisse fashion it fades very quickly. First in behind it is a crisp and grainy, wheaty effect of the sort that predominates in Berliner Kindl's weisse. The hops don't do much here, adding little more than a whiff of urinal cake to the finish, but they don't get in the way. This hits exactly the refreshment points that a beer like this is supposed to and is, I would say, capable of resetting even the most jaded of mid-session palates.

And home again for the last one: Bones of a Sailor Part III. This is a 9.5% ABV imperial porter brewed with vanilla, raspberries and cacao and then aged in Pedro Ximinéz barrels. That's a lot to put on a label but the flavour does a great job of reminding you about all of it as soon as the dense black liquid goes in your mouth. The raspberries are first: an unmistakeable fruity tartness that shouldn't really be so obvious in a strong dark beer, but like that raspberry imperial stout Thornbridge did, it's very very present here. Pedro Ximinéz is so fashionable for beer ageing these days that I bought a bottle of the dark sherry when I was last in Spain to find out what it is. And as well as looking like it, this beer really tastes of it too, all sweetly tannic like plump boozy raisins. Vanilla and dark chocolate are present -- but only just -- underneath this, and I guess they're flavours you'd expect to find in an unadulterated oak-aged porter anyway. There's a smoky roast quality too, just in case you weren't sure that this busy concoction started life as a real beer. Though quite sticky, it's buoyed up by a busy prickle that helps with the drinkability. I was expecting a heavy and rich beer entirely unsuited to the sunny afternoon on which I drank it but the raspberry acid cuts through all that and gave me a powerhouse porter that's also really rather refreshing.

Liquid Monstrous notwithstanding, I'm in no rush to change my current high opinion of this brewery.

Arch rivals

You're not a proper London brewery if you don't have a railway arch, though what you do with it apart from brew beer is entirely up to you. I was in town for a weekend last month and visited three of the several dozen breweries now operating there.

Saturdays at the Kernel has been a regular fixture on the London beer calendar for a couple of years now and this was my first visit. Evin and his crew roll up the shutters, set out the tables and hook up the beer lines before inviting the punters in. You can buy bottles to take away at the entrance or go round the corner to sample from the selection on site.

My attention was first drawn to Kernel's Table Beer as I've heard much about it, all good. "Is this the same version that's listed on RateBeer?" asked the chap in front of me. I winced slightly. The cheery Kernelite at the taps informed him that this was version 14, and that he wasn't in a position to comment on what was listed on RateBeer. It's 2.9% ABV and is a dark and hazy orange amber. I confess I wasn't a fan: there's a dank hit at the top of the flavour, turning suddenly bitter for a quick finish. The low alcohol hasn't been compensated for very well and the texture was quite watery as a result. Maybe versions 1 through 13 had more going for them, but this didn't do it for me at all.

With the little hand only just hitting 10am, low alcohol was definitely the way to keep going, and so to London Sour, a 3% ABV Berliner weisse. This is much more my cup of whatever: a sweet-sour malt vinegar tang kicks it off with a bang and the aftermath is a smooth graininess without any of the musty wheat flavours I associate with Berliner Kindl's archetype of the style. Perfect refreshment and I'd love to have been quaffing buckets of it.

Wary of the weird stuff, Madame sent me to the bar to get her "something hoppy", adding "hops I like!" as I walked off. Obviously I ignored that and got her hops I like instead: Citra Galaxy Pale Ale. I've been a little let down by Kernel's pale ales in the past, I guess because I'm not much of a hop head as these things go, but this 5.1% ABV beer is a stunner. Bitter, yes, but tempered by that utterly fresh orange juice effect you get from Galaxy. There's a gorgeous sherbet sparkle to it as well, as if it wasn't charming enough already.

The follow-up was the Export Stout, and I never have any qualms about dark beer from Kernel. 6.1% ABV and I can say little more than it's the Platonic ideal of stout: a silky texture, dark chocolate balanced with fresh roasted coffee and a slight hint of metallic molasses to lend it an edge. A magnificent send-off as we headed, David-Banner-like, along the railway tracks of Bermondsey to the next archéd brewery.

Not too far, thankfully: Partizan is only a few minutes away and a rather more modest set-up, occupying a single arch and utilising Kernel's cast-off brewkit. It's all bottles here, and the hospitality does not yet run to things to sit on, or places to set your beer, but the welcome was warm and the beer wasn't.

Partizan Pale Ale is (was? they seem like the kind of people to change these things often) 5.5% ABV and single hopped with Dr. Rudi. There's an appropriately antipodean eucalyptus aroma though the flavour has more of a boiled sweets and and orange cordial thing going on. It's remarkably weighty for its strength too. Their IPA is a darker orange colour and at 6.8% ABV rather hotter. There's still a pleasant zest to it, however, keeping it perfectly refreshing on a warm summer's morning. Partizan Stout is thick and very roasty with lots of caramel and a healthy portion of bitter veg from the hops. I nearly missed this one but was glad I tried it.

What Partizan seem to be building a reputation for, however, is saisons and they had a few of these on offer. The Sage Grisette took my fancy in particular. It's not fully hopless, though there's not much sign of them in the taste of the 3.8%-er. Not a whole lot of sage either, if I'm honest, the flavour being quite simple and grainy. The sour lambicky aroma is another promise on which the beer doesn't quite deliver. There's much better fun to be had with the Citrus (not Citra!) Grisette, taking its name from the inclusion of oranges and lemons in the recipe. The aroma is a weird mix of barnyard funk and ripe fruit. Lots of fizz gave my palate a much-needed scrub before introducing a flavour which mixes the lurid orangeades of my childhood with the exotic yet mundane smells from the medicine cabinet. A fascinating combination.

Ramping the ABV up to 7.4% we have Mosaic, a saison which hides its strength expertly. It's much sweeter than I'd expect, knowing the voraciousness of saison yeast, with even more herbs-and-orange than the foregoing and a very powerful hop burn sitting right in the middle.

I was sad when I realised we'd got to the end of the menu. Partizan are definitely a brewery to watch out for, especially when you're close to the source.

The other arch we visited was quite a different experience. Camden Town Brewery is actually much closer to Kentish Town, and more or less physically attached to Kentish Town West Overground station. We called up on a balmy Friday evening, expecting the place to be jammed but there was plenty of space, inside at least. The set-up is pretty plush for an arch, especially compared to the other two: a glass entranceway rather than a roller shutter, white ceramic tiles instead of bare brick and a big-screen TV instead of malt sacks. The brewing equipment is presumably somewhere out the back but it wasn't on show: the place could have been just another trendy urban hangout.

The beer selection ran heavily to lager but I had no objections, given the weather. Unfiltered Camden Hells is remarkably clear, all things considered. As a helles it's absolutely bang-on: smooth and quaffable with just a mild hint of green apple in the finish which I'm content to regard as a fun quirk rather than a flaw. Its American-hopped sibling is USA Hells which achieves pretty much the same effect but with an added dusting of delicious grape and peach flavours. Perfect quenchers the both of them.

Our one for the road was Versus, a 7% ABV Baltic porter. Lots of roast in the aroma here and a true-to-style weighty texture, hiding its alcohol behind pipe smoke and liquorice. Deliciously old-fashioned, which I'm sure is not something the brewery was aiming for. From the fridge I took a bottle of Byron home with me, a session pale ale produced by Camden for the hamburger chain of the same name. It's not terribly interesting: medium gold with a mild hop aroma, sharply bitter and rather metallic with just some half-hearted toffee for balance. A long way from the quality of the other offerings.

London: go for the breweries and don't bother with the burgers.

From Prussia with love

It's all going to get a bit German on this blog for the next fortnight. Berlin had been on my must-visit list for far too long, and while beer wasn't top of my priorities as a first-time tourist, the city does have quite a number of brewpubs plus a unique local beer speciality. And our visit, earlier this month, just happened to coincide with the three-day Berlin Beer Festival, so beer did creep in here and there between the museums and palaces and historical sites. Funny how that keeps happening...

That local speciality is, of course, Berliner weisse, of which Berliner Kindl Weisse is the only surviving example from a mainstream Berlin brewery. It's a sour wheat beer almost always flavoured with woodruff or raspberry syrup to take the edge off. Having tried both of these previously I was determined to hunt out the naked original version. I found what I was looking for a couple of days into the trip, at Alkopole in Alexanderplatz station. It's one of a chain of beer specialists and they boast that they blend their own flavourings for Berliner weisse. I took this to imply that the unadulterated form was also available though it took a few rounds of "Öhne schuss." "Öhne schuss?" "Ja, öhne schuss" before the waitress finally threw her eyes heavenward and scuttled off to get me some.


It arrived in the customary goblet, though strangely headless: perhaps that's another function of the syrup. A pale gold colour and only slightly hazy, it exudes a grainy lagerish aroma. And on tasting it's surprisingly plain and dry more than full-on sour. Only a little vinegary tang on the finish hints at the lactic bacterial jamboree involved in the fermentation process.

All in all it was a bit of an anti-climax. But that's it done and I can rest easy knowing that if this beer goes the way of so many local German specialities at least I gave it a try. My recommendation is still to go for the green woodruff version if you see it.

Aside from the weisse, Berliner Kindl brews some more orthodox stuff. Their summer seasonal was a dark one called Märkischer Landmann Schwarzbier: a dark red affair with some lovely caramel on the nose and a touch of molasses, but also quite smooth and dry making it eminently sinkable. Of course there's a standard pils too which one sees all over Berlin, competing tightly against the rival Berliner Pilsner. This is a pure north-German style pils, gold with almost a greenish hue and a pungent waxy bitterness, finishing on heady grass notes. After a hot afternoon's schlep around the Museum Island it's a perfect refresher.

So much for the macros: we've got  brewpubs to hit. Starting at the everso touristy Georg-Bräu by the banks of the Spree in the city centre. I have a bit of a soft spot for this place, just because it was sunny when we visited, and it served us the first beer of the day.

Georg-Pils Hell was a hazy orange affair with madly low carbonation: little more than a gentle effervesence. There's a vague sort of herbiness in the flavour, but really it's a conversation beer meant for unfussy quaffing, which is what I did. Herself was on Georg-Pils Dunkel, a name to give the style purists white knuckles. This was bizarrely pale for something claiming to be dark, more of an orange-amber and only a few notches down the colour chart from the Hell. Low fizz again and this time a bit more depth to the flavour, showing some nice sweet fruit in the middle, and just a little waft of mown grass at the end.

We head back to the vicinity of bustling Alexanderplatz for the next one. Bräuhaus Mitte has a touch of '50s futurism about it, wedged into an upstairs corner of a rather unglamourous boxy shopping mall.

There were four beers on the go: Mitte Pils is a pale gold with a fast-disappearing head. It's very heavy work with lots of sugary golden syrup. Mitte Dunkel is more by-the-numbers: lots of milk chocolate in both the flavour and aroma. Only the paleness of its brown colour marking it out as any way unusual. These Berlin brewpubs seem a little afraid of the dark maltsacks. Mitte Weiss was pleasantly odd: a heady perfumed aroma and a flavour that spoke more of sweet pineapples than clove or banana. Finally the seasonal was a Zwickel. Relatively clear for this format and an attractive shade of dark gold. The flavour was very odd indeed: a sickly cakey cinnamon spice thing. Yeast playing silly buggers, I suppose.

For all that the beers at Mitte are a mixed bag it's a nice place to hang out if you get a seat on the terrace. Chatty staff and pork chops the size of housebricks make for ample compensation.

Lastly for this post we nip around the corner to Marcus Bräu, a poky little rustic tavern full of bric-à-brac. The old reliable pils and dunkel were all the menu offered. Marcus-Bräu Pils is an alarmingly wan watery yellow, looking for all the world like some class of weak lemon drink. Yet it's surprisingly heavily textured with lots of syrup and some bready, biscuity weight. A tiny citric hit on the finish is the only intimation of hopping it offers. The Dunkel, for once, is properly dark and red-brown. Aromas of coffee and caramel drift off the surface of the stickily textured beer while the flavour packs in brown sugar laced with old world spices: cloves and nutmeg. Definitely a cut above the dunkels we've seen so far.

On Wednesday we take a wander out of the city centre in search of yet more micros.

Take me up to Pinkus

Last Saturday I took a morning train out of Cologne northwards to the medieval university town of Münster which, for the last two years has been home to my former neighbour and fellow blogger Barry.

Yeah, Münster has, like, history and stuff, and Barry showed us some churches and a town hall famous for its signed peas or something, but then it was time for the main dish: Pinkus Müller. The last brewery making Münster's distinctive style of blonde altbier -- and indeed the last brewery in the city -- Pinkus Müller is conveniently situated near the centre of town on a large street-corner plot. The room we settled in was a very cosy and poky one, with wooden beams, delft tiles in the fireplace, lots of kitcheny nick-nacks and the watchful eye of our matronly hostess.

I started with the Jubilate, a light-bodied and only slightly sweet winter beer which manages to balance warmth and drinkability rather well. I followed this with the enigmatic Classic made, apparently, from "historical barley" -- what that means is anyone's guess. The beer is a very light and thin cloudy affair with a bit of orange flavour to it, but otherwise not terribly interesting. Last of the new ones was Müller's Lagerbier, which manages to break all the rules of what one might expect from such a label. It's cloudy, for one thing with a candy-apple nose and lots of fruity flavours, finishing with just a touch of honey. Very unusual and rather tasty. Naturally, I couldn't leave without a token Pinkus Original Münstersch Alt -- full of sour bitter spiky complexity yet super-quaffable. My full review is here, and I think half-litres are definitely the way to go with this, rather than messing about with 25cl glasses as we were.

Next stop was a couple of doors up to a fun little pub called Das Blaue Haus where there was Berliner Kindl Weisse on the menu. Having loved the green one, I went red this time. Berliner Kindl Weisse Rot is nowhere near as good: there's no space for the sourness to shine through and it just ends up tasting of raspberry syrup and nothing else. Lesson learned.

Dinner was out in the harbour area. Münster has taken an odd approach to its docklands redevelopment scheme, lining one side of the Dortmund-Ems canal with swish apartments and fancy bars, while presenting them with a view of unreconstructed industrialism on the other side, where a power station belches smoke and barges ply their trade. Strange. Anyway, we ate in Wolters where the food was good and hearty, and the beer was draught Duckstein. Plain old standard Duckstein is a lot more interesting than I'd expected, a dark beer with a delicate complex flavour including floral perfume, burnt caramel and a sweet rum-soaked raisin warmth.

And if that wasn't surprising enough, there's also a Duckstein Weizen: also on the browner end of the spectrum and with that caramel and rasins thing going on too. The banana flavours are relatively muted, and the finish is just a little too sudden. But it's definitely different and worth a go if you see it. To Barry's knowledge it's only sold at Wolter's.

Having found Münster's jolly English theme pub The James closed (sure who wants a drink on a Saturday night?) there was just time for a swift Frankenheim Alt before the train back south to Cologne. Thanks for a fun day out, Bar.

Dam'd if you do

We arrived in Amsterdam early yesterday evening and, having checked in at our lodgings, made a straight for In De Wildeman, a legendary beer pub and just a couple of streets away. We settled in the redundant non-smoking room (all Dutch pubs are entirely smoke free since last month) among the very mid-twentieth-century green painted wood.

A quick scan of the menu, the specials board, and the taps and my first order was a Yeti, the 9.2% ABV imperial stout from Colorado's Great Divide brewery. In typically Dutch style, 25cl was poured quickly into a glass leaving a huge expanse of dark brown head. The aroma sings of big American hops conspiring with dark smoky malts, all begging to be tasted. The flavour doesn't disappoint, with the hops sitting right at the front and then followed by a big long sweet dark crème caramel finish. The mouthfeel is incredibly thick with only the fainest hint of sparkle. The whole sensation is one of rapid see-sawing between big American hops and dark stouty malt, and one I enjoyed hugely.

Meanwhile, Mrs Beer Nut also started with an American: Left Hand's Juju Ginger Ale. It's an uninspiring and rather watery affair without much going on, either flavour- or aroma-wise.

So, what do I follow my powerhouse American imperial stout with? There was really only one thing for it...

Berliner Kindl Weisse Grün, is the version of Berlin's trademark wheat beer flavoured with a dash of woodruff syrup. I loved this beer from the start. It instantly hit the part of my brain that enjoys Faro and similar light sweet-sour Belgian fizz. It's sweet, light and (for me) inhalable. The sour/dry smack on top of the syrup makes it extremely moreish: I could lash through gallons of this 3%-er without even thinking about it. I'm only on my second beer and I think I've made the discovery of the trip.

Mrs Beer Nut decided to go Dutch and went for a Natte from local brewery 't IJ. Except I don't think that's what arrived. I was expecting a brown dubbel, but instead got a distinctly orange and cloudy beer with a gunpowder spice nose and a whole green-grocer's full of raw crunchy vegetal bitterness, moderated only slightly with a black pepper sharpness. I'm fairly sure they brought her the tripel Zatte instead. Either way, it was bloody good.

And with that we were off into the night to forage for some food after which we brought the day to a close. This morning we left bright and early for Alkmaar to see its legendary cheese market (jealous?) and the wonderfully quirky beer museum. Down the stairs and there's a pub at canal-level.

I continued the Dutch theme with another 't IJ beer: Columbus. This is a powerfully earthy opaque orange beer with more than a touch of Brettanomyces about it. The aroma is super-sour and the flavour includes the faintest wisp of orange pith under big heavy damp horse blankets. Meanwhile, Mrs Beer Nut wanted something light and refreshing, it being a warm sunny day (a what?!) and all. Randomly I suggested Wittekerke Rosé, and perhaps I shouldn't have. I rather liked it: it's 10% raspberry juice and tastes it, with just a bit of wheaty fluffiness underneath. Herself wasn't so keen, but them's the breaks when you let men choose your beer for you.

Second round, I stayed with 't IJ again and had a Struis -- another orangey-brown gunpowder-laden spicy ale. There's a touch of mango and passionfruit before the lees go in, and this is accentuated and added to with the gunk in: more gunpowder and a nice snappy hoppiness. A complex sipper that's end-to-end enjoyable.

Mrs Beer Nut indulged her bock habit, slumming it with Brand Imperator, a pale amber one from one of the Netherlands' nastier big industrial breweries. As expected it's quite an easy-going beer, light on the caramel and replacing it with a breezy fruitiness, making it a sunny afternoon sort of bock, which was just as well.

We spent the rest of the afternoon dawdling through Alkmaar, and got the train back to Amsterdam. 24 hours into the trip and already well ahead in the beer stakes.