Given lemons

These two arrived into my local supermarket at the same time recently, a little late for high summer but very welcome on a warm day in early September. Both are radlers, from two of Germany's big national brands.

I'll take them in ascending order of ABV, beginning with Bitburger Naturtrüb Radler, at 1.9%. It pours as one would expect for naturtrüb, looking like a pale cloudy lemonade, just short of ice and a tiny parasol. The aroma promises refreshment, with a hint of quenching lager crispness next to the very obvious lemon syrup. It has the stickiness of a fizzy soft drink, but at least it's not vapid and watery. The beer side is missing from the flavour, however, with the flavourings providing all the sweetness and bitterness that's perceptible, leaving no space for malt or hops. Given that Bitburger Pilsner isn't the most flavoursome lager in the first place, that probably shouldn't be surprising.

The ABV goes up to 2% for Warsteiner Natur Radler. This one is clearer: a see-through murky yellow, so I hoped it might have a bit of beer character. Not really, it turned out, and again I think that's at least in part down to the base beer's basic blandness. They did get the body right here, though: while it still tastes primarily like a soft drink, it's light and fizzy like a lager. The lemon element is restrained, tasting more like a classy bitter-lemon mixer than something aimed at children. For the use-case these beers were put to, this one performed better. I might even have considered a second, which is unusual for me and sugary drinks.

These were cheap, and fine to drink, but I still don't get the appeal.

Frost/Bit

I've owned a Bitburger glass for some sixteen years now -- it's one of the Masterson Bequeathment, and is in regular rotation, but for other beers. I discovered recently that I've never had Bitburger. That has to change.

My assumption is that it's the most basic of mass-market German pilsners, based solely on how ubiquitous it is, in a market that doesn't really have big national brands like other countries. The aroma doesn't sing of hops, but there's something worthwhile there: grassy to an acceptable extent. It's not thin, the texture spot-on for 4.8% ABV, with an almost sticky golden syrup note. Any freshness from the hops that manifested in the aroma is completely gone here. Instead, it's a plasticky sort of bitterness -- absolutely standard for industrial German lager, sadly -- and it sits on an overall cardboard-like staleness, even though the bottle was relatively fresh. I mean, I'm glad I took the time to try it, and I won't object too strenuously on future occasions when Bitburger is the only beer available, but it's not a great beer. Everyone else probably knows that already, but now you have it from me.

What prompted the above appraisal was the arrival of Bitburger Winterbock, a 7% ABV pale bock, something which could either be better crafted for taste, or cheap and nasty and hot. In reality it's not quite either. This doesn't taste its strength, being clean and surprisingly dry, with only a mild hit of syrupy malt arriving late in proceedings. I guess strong and simple is all it's meant to do, and I'm glad it doesn't have the powerful melty plastic flavour which is somehow perfectly acceptable in pale bock but very much isn't for me. At the same time, there's nothing very interesting about it, and I feel a little resentful that a strong lager would be so bland: there was an opportunity to do more here, but they didn't take it. It's not even very wintery: swap the brooding black goat on the label for a cheery one wearing a hat and you have an equally fine summer beer. This should be dark. Winter beers should be dark. There, I said it.

On this showing, Bitburger beers are just on the right side of acceptable, but no more than that. Unless you're in one of the German venues they monopolise, there's probably something better available.

London (not) for beginners

It's 3.30 yesterday afternoon. I've just come out of a meeting in Camden, north London and have arranged with a colleague to meet at Paddington Station at 5 for the train back to Heathrow. At Camden Town tube station I discover that the Northern line is severely disrupted and all service on the Circle and Hammersmith & City lines has been suspended. The question: have I time for a quick pint of St. Peter's excellent cask ale at the Jerusalem Tavern in Clerkenwell?
'Course I have.

Had I not been navigating on the hoof I'd have hopped out at Euston, walked to Euston Square, and taken the Metropolitan line to Farringdon. I didn't spot this easy option, however, and opted instead to leg it from Euston, across Bloomsbury, past Gray's Inn field and into Clerkenwell.

I arrived at the Jerusalem in Britton Street at 4.15. It's a strange, simple little pub, furnished in rickety wood and giving the appearance of being held together by paint and varnish. The taps on the bar serve Bitburger and Aspall's cider. Behind it, however, a row of spigots promise beers from the pub's parent brewery: St. Peter's in Suffolk. Though tempted to order something I know, and compare its cask and bottled incarnations, I went instead for a pint of mild, a beer style which is nigh-on impossible to find here at home. St. Peter's Mild is very dark, with a thick creamy head. The taste is indeed mild, offering subtle coffee and roasted grain notes.

As I sunk my mild, I consulted my map and figured that I'd be able to take a much shorter route back to Paddington: from Farringdon, changing at Baker Street. And that meant I had time for another pint. This time I went for St. Peter's Grapefruit beer, having read good things about it, and to find out how the wizards of Bungay do fruit beer. More than anything, it reminded me of Früli. It doesn't look like it, taste like it, smell like it or feel like it, but it has a similar beer-fruit relationship, with the fruit definitely wearing the trousers. It's clear, almost headless, a deep red-gold colour and tastes overwhelmingly of real grapefruit. Marvellously refreshing and innovative.

At this point I took my leave and was back at Paddington at the appointed hour. We arrived at Heathrow with time to spare. Anyone who flies at all regularly between Ireland and Heathrow will be very familiar with the complex of metal tubes housing gates 80 to 90 of Terminal 1, affectionately known as "The Paddyshack". Time was, the Paddyshack Wetherspoons had Theakstons on draught and the last couple of pints at the airport was something I always looked forward to. Alas those days are gone, and it's necessary to drink landside in order to get anything better than Heineken these days. Armed with this knowledge I led us to the main landside Wetherspoons, where the handpumps were pouring Schiehallion, Marston's Pedigree, Bombardier and Deuchars IPA. The last of these was the only stranger to me, so that's where I started. I was disappointed from the first sip. This is a rather bland affair, lacking the hoppy citrusy warmth one expects from British IPA. Instead, it's creamy and smooth with only the fainest hop character at the very back.

Having polished that off I should really have opted for a Schiehallion, knowing that I really like it. Instead, I decided to give a dull beer a second chance. Having been disappointed with bottled Marston's Pedigree, I tried a draught pint and found it to be exactly the same forgettable sensation. Marston's should be proud that their bottling process manages to reproduce the cask experience perfectly. If only it were an experience worth having...