The Twelve Brewers of Christmas 12: Leftovers

Merry Christmas! As is now traditional on this the second year of it, my Twelve Brewers sequence ends with the beers I met along the way but couldn't squeeze into another post. Once again I've managed twelve different beers from twelve different breweries

White Hag kicks us off, with third in its Róc series of lagers. The previous two, a pils and a helles, didn't present the styles they way I like them, so I was a little apprehensive about something called a Hoppy Lager. The can prepares one to expect something in a new-world style and it's pretty apparent on pouring that this is what, in the good old days (2014 or so), would be called an India Pale Lager. It's 4.5% ABV and a hazy golden colour with a strong aroma of tropical and stone-fruit. The flavour abolutely goes to town on the sunny tropicals: guava, mango and lychee leap out immediately. A pristine clean base gives them ample room to dance about, and they're followed by a spritz of citrus: sweet mandarin and a lemony bite. This is beautifully done, if a little unseasonal.

At the Molloy's off licence chain they've teamed up with Trouble for this year's Christmas pale ale, called Brewdolph. It's a spritzy chap of 4.6% ABV, the aroma mixing bitter and sweet, like a sugar-dusted grapefruit. Galaxy and Talus are the hops. In the flavour I get the caraway savoury effect I associate most with Mosaic, though there's also plenty of fresh lemon following it, again the citrus acidity paired with sweeter juice. Although it's slightly hazy and yellow there's no New England fluff: this is clean and crisp all the way down. It may seem a strange choice of style for the depths of winter but I for one do appreciate something clean and quenching to balance my diet this time of year. Brewdolph, like the Róc above, fits that bill perfectly.

Black's of Kinsale, which normally puts out its new beers in cans, has reverted to bottles for its latest Tropical IPA. I assume this is a variant of the Totally Tropical it released over the summer, though the fruits have changed: this one made with pineapple, mango and passionfruit. It's still an even 5% ABV. The aroma is quite sickly, a strong and syrupy fizzy drink thing. Lilt on steroids. Another tropical crop came through immediately in the foretaste: coconut; all oily and quite savoury. There's an almost tangy metal bitterness waiting behind this with a little pepper: both derived, I'm guessing, from how concentrated the concentrate is. It opens out after a minute or two, turning to actual fruit but tasting no less like a soda pop. This has a bit of a cheek calling itself an IPA: there's no sign of the Citra and Cascade the brewer added. While certainly no halfhearted attempt at novelty, I thought it was overdone on flavourings and difficult to enjoy as a result.

Brehon, meanwhile, has gone in the more conventional opposite direction, and the first new beer from there to get canned is Just Because, a double IPA. No skimping on the alcohol here: it's 8.5% ABV. In the glass it's a clear copper colour topped by a loose head. The aroma promises a sweetness to match all that alcohol: Lucozade with a spritz of lemon zest. A punchy bitterness opens the flavour: overtones of wax and zinc. Contrasting with that is a golden syrup malt side, while in the middle the only nuance on offer is that zesty citrus -- it's not much, given that a combination of Columbus, Simcoe and Centennial was used. I just noticed that the can also describes the contents as "hazy", suggesting that the author had never actually seen the beer. This is a long way from how double IPAs are constructed these days, and anyone hoping for one of those hot and murky tropical garlic jobs is in for disappointment. I quite enjoyed its cleanness and simplicity, and the fact that it's not simply another passenger on an overcrowded bandwagon. You do you, Brehon.

Something altogether more modern next, from Wicklow Brewery. LocKnut is a kveik-fermented hazy IPA of 5.2% ABV. Witness the thickness! It gloops out of the can like a milkshake, forming a dense head over an opaque deep-orange body. There's a little light citrus in the aroma but it's not generously endowed in that department. And the flavour, again, goes in more for citrus than the promised tropical fruit. There's a light spritz effect, like a sorbet or higher-end cloudy lemonade. Looking more closely, there's maybe a hint of sweeter cantaloupe, but also savoury spring onion; while the finish is pinchingly bitter, not juicy. It's not a bad beer, but I do think it underdelivers. One for haze fiends and kveik nerds only, perhaps.

Loosey Joosey is the next take on "juicy" pale ale, from Bullhouse in collaboration with Hopfully. Another yellow New Englander I thought as I popped it, and then recoiled slightly when it poured out pink. Brewed with plum and cherry says the label helpfully. So that kind of juice. Actual juice. OK. It smells a little jammy, but in a real-fruit way, not concentrated or artificial. There's a nod, I think, to hazy pale ales in the texture. It's fluffy and soft, but instead of driving tropical fruit flavours you get creamy forest fruit desserts: a simplisitc blackberry or raspberry thing at first, but more distinct cherry afterwards. An aspect of good Belgian kriek features here, though it's not a sour beer. I needed a few sips to get my head around what it is, because it's not a pale ale either -- there is no hop character. The closest parallel might be those simple and soft fruited wheat beers that were a by-word for exotic 15 and 20 years ago: one of the good ones that's not too sweet. After the fruit there's a crisp cereal note to give it a balancing dry side. I was surprised to find myself rather enjoying it. Nobody is making beer like this at the moment, and while I wouldn't like to see the market flooded, the odd one is fun. Can we have blueberries next?

DOT is back with another *yaaaawn* non-barrel-aged beer: Believable, described as a DDH IPA, and "crushable" despite being 6.6% ABV. It's murky and pale orange, in a way that I suspect is going out of fashion, but Old Man DOT persists, in a quaint 2017 sort of way. The aroma mixes juicy jaffa with a pepper spice: fun, but I've had it before. The flavour has all the familiar oily orange, spring onion, vanilla, white pepper and plaster. This is strictly for the fans. It's not horrible; it's only as flawed as the style is, but I can't give it a thumbs-up because gritty IPA doesn't do it for me, no matter how fresh or exotic the hops. If you like the way DOT does these, here's another, go nuts, it's Christmas.

So dreary is the branding I had not noticed that Aldi added a new Road Works beer to their range last year. But when I did, about four days ago, I picked one up to try. Like the others, Road Works West Coast IPA is brewed by Alltech's Pearse Lyons Brewery in Dundalk. And it's quaintly clear, a pale amber colour, smelling of caramel candy and grapefruit. "West Coast" here means the way European breweries made American IPA a decade ago, rather than being a clone of, say, Sculpin. It's only 5.9% ABV, for one thing. Not that that's a complaint: it's lovely. A clean and classic American bitterness, dry with lots of hard citrus, meeting a toffee sweetness that balances it while still leaving the hops fully in charge. It's punchy, straightforward, flavoursome and cheap: all things that are very welcome in IPA these days. This is one of those beer types that supposedly high-end breweries have long since abandoned, and this particular example is sure to raise a smile on the face of anyone who got into IPA before all the murk hit.

Quadruple next. Canvas has been giving us The Sunday Cuddle for a while now, but this is the first time I've seen it in real life, and in canned form too. It's 9.4% ABV and dark brown in the glass. The aroma is properly Belgian, bringing a mix of prunes, figs and seasonal pudding in general. It's a little on the thin side, and there's a bit of a sharp acetic tang which is atypical: I expect quadruple to be richer and heavier than this. The main flavour makes up for any shortcomings, however. You get the pudding elements again -- extra raisins and a sprinkling of chocolate -- but also a bitter herbal side too, with aniseed, cardamom and chamomile. Locally-sourced herbs are mentioned in the official description but we're not told what they are. It adds up to a very old-fashioned dessert flavour but it works brilliantly. Along with the light texture, there's not much warmth, but on the plus side, that helps its drinkability. While this one doesn't deliver much by way of cuddles, I still really enjoyed it. 

Next in Rye River's Limited Edition series is a Baltic porter called Brunch. I have to declare a prejudice here, in that I don't think lagers are suited to "craft" "enhancements", and that goes just as much for Baltic porter. While a properly Baltic deep black and 9% ABV, it has been given the benefit of coffee and maple syrup (if you believe the front label that is; the actual ingredients list round the back mentions neither). The aroma is all coffee; the real sort, not the analogue you might get from a porter. It's enticing. The first sip reveals it to be properly smooth and clean, as a Baltic porter should be, and while the coffee remains present it's not overdone. The bittering has been dialled back a little, though I still get that kick of liquorice which, for me, is the style's hallmark. Leaving preciousness about Baltic porter aside, this is a good beer. It has the satisfying fullness you want from a strong dark one, and the crisp precision of a lager. The coffee adds character, but there's no other gimmickry. The advertised maple syrup and raunchmalt may as well not be there, and I don't miss them. This is happy, warming winter drinking.

Lineman's finisher for 2020 is a bourbon-barrel version of their Gigantic imperial stout, called Giganticer. First fill bourbon barrels, the label is keen to tell us. The vanilla bomb fails to detonate in the aroma: it's corky and a bit vinous on the nose. Nothing extreme. And then pow! Huge vanilla kicks in at the front of the flavour, and a solid dose of that sour-mash lime effect, finishing up on a dry oaky woodchip thing. Bourbon gets so busy here I had to work to find the stout. There's... a little hop bitterness and maybe some creamy chocolate if you squint, but this isn't a showcase stout: you would want to enjoy bourbon with/as your beer. I'm sure that was the plan; for me it didn't work as well as the basic model. One to age, maybe?

It seems fitting that we end The Twelve Brewers of Christmas on beer number 12 in Kinnegar's Brewers At Play series. Trivia fans might like to note that the first and second in the series featured in last year's edition of this post. Hazelnut Vanilla Imperial Stout is the brewery's first imperial stout and nutcrackered-up, as the name suggests. It's not very different to how everyone else does these: smelling of nutty chocolate spread and tasting of a mix of Snickers, Tia Maria, Fry's Turkish Delight and chocolate-coated hazelnuts. You get the idea. It's a mere 9% ABV so very much a starting-out imperial stout. Doubtless they'll be ramping it up and whacking it into candyfloss brandy barrels like everyone else in due course. In the meantime, please enjoy the rich cocoa and coffee foretaste, with violet and caramel afters. It's intense, but I liked it. Sticky, sippable, yet not cloying or difficult. Your middle-of-the-boreen sort of novelty imperial stout. I'd like it drier and cleaner, but the brewers are playing and I can't complain about that.

And that's where we hit capacity for 2020's Twelve Brewers. A handful of breweries missed the cut through no fault of their own and I'll be catching up with them in the New Year. One of many things to look forward to in 2021.

In search of cosy

Arriving into rural Shropshire for Christmas, the first port of call was the local, The White Horse. They generally have a Christmas offering of some sort on the wickets, and this time it was Hollybob from Wye Valley, I didn't have much hope for it, and less when it poured brown and seemingly lifeless. It turned out rather decent, however. There's nothing at all Christmassy about it, or nothing obvious anyway: no spicing or fruit gimmickry. Instead it's dry and tannic, like a super-strong cup of very black tea. There's a bit more substance than is usual for this style: a balancing caramel sweetness and a certain creaminess to the texture, which I guess is what fits it for winter, and it does a better job than a packet of dried cinnamon would. This is a very gulpable, refreshing yet characterful dark bitter, one I'd happily be snowed in with.

The other, non-seasonal, bitter on tap was Brew XI from Mitchell's & Butler's, a bit of a throwback in Birmingham brewing, sparking memories in some locals of the years when it was the only cask ale available. From the inauspicious badge I wasn't expecting much from this, and it delivered even less. We're talking the basic level of basic brown bitter. Sweet caramel set on a thick malt base with no balancing hop. The nearest thing to balance it offers is a salty tang, a little like you'd find in cheap milk chocolate. With a dull beer I could have at least relaxed into my surroundings and forgot about what's in front of me; this sugarbomb, however, demanded my attention and was just too much work to down before moving back to the Hollybob.

That's it for pub drinking. A jolly pre-Christmas lunch in The Bottle & Glass in Picklescott and a Boxing Day swifty at The Stiperstones Inn yielded some lovely beers but nothing I haven't written about previously. On to the takeaways, then.

The Shropshire town of Ludlow has developed something of a gastronomic brand for itself. That's the main reason, faced with a supermarket shelf of unfamiliar beers, I opted for three from the Ludlow Brewing Company. They wouldn't be allowed use the name if their beers weren't excellent, right?

Gold is your basic golden ale (I think: there's almost no information about it on the label) and pours thinly with a desultory short-lived head. It smells... beery, of bitterly metallic English hops and honey-sweet malt: not an unpleasant smell at all. That's more-or-less what you get for a flavour too, the honey dialled up at the front; the tinny tang providing a finish. I'm honestly not sure whether to admire the crisp and light refreshing texture, or bemoan its thinness: both are valid positions. Overall, it's fine. Classically English, devoid of flaws and I am certain it works better served cool from a cask.

Middle of the set is The Boiling Well, and "premium ale" is as detailed as the description gets. Head retention is an issue again. It's dark red and, as expected, a fairly average caramel-forward ale; a brown bitter, I suppose, but sharing a lot of features with mid-range Irish red ale. There's a growing banana ester as it warms, some gunpowder spice and a mineral tang. Not enough to make it genuinely interesting, though.

Last of the set is Stairway, I guess a pale bitter or even an IPA, at 5% ABV. The head sticks around a bit longer on this one and there's an enticing citric aroma. It tastes clean and sharp, like posh lemonade with a waxy bitter finish. There's virtually no aftertaste, just a gentle lemony buzz. This is the best of the three, showing great character while still being easy-going and refreshing. Like the blonde, it instils a curiosity about the cask version, a format to which it too seems better suited.

From over the border in Llandudno comes Great Orme's Brewdolph winter warmer. 5% ABV and a dark garnet shade, topped with a lovely creamy layer of snow-white foam. The flavour is a Victorian Christmas riot of plums, figs, liquorice and fruitcake with a dry and bitterly roasted finish, somewhere between a dubbel and a stout. No fruit or spice additions went into this so all the winter-wonderland effect is down to the brewer's art and nothing else. It's complex, tasty, warming and filling -- absolutely ideal winter fare.

Closer to base, there's Hobsons, who celebrated 25 years in business during 2018 with Amber Journey Ale. Surprisingly, it's more a golden colour than amber, but doubles back with a flavour of toffee and biscuit that's much more typical of an amber ale. An American one specifically, as the malt is studded with lightly citric and mildly dank hops, leading to a peppery finish. It's only 4.4% ABV and gently carbonated, which makes for very easy drinking and excellent refreshment qualities. It might be a little too sweet for several at once, but the single I had went down lovely.

Postman's Knock ruby porter is one I was sure I'd had before, but research indicates it was just the barrel-aged version, two Christmases ago. It's ruby indeed, a translucent garnet colour, and the carbonation is once again low and cask-like. Milk chocolate is the predominant flavour and there's a slightly acrid boiled-veg acidity in the finish. Though I'm sure it's exactly as the brewer intended, I wasn't as fond of this as I usually am of Hobsons beers. The dark malt is too sweet and the hops too bitter, resulting in unbalanced extremes in both directions. I can see why they thought putting it in a whisky barrel was a good idea.

From Wychwood comes Arrowaine, a 3.6% ABV dark ale. So... a mild, then? Perhaps the m-word is insufficiently cool for the all-important brand style. It's pleasingly black, with a stable pillar of off-white foam and quite fruity to taste, bringing plum and raisin. There's a backing of dark chocolate and some slightly hot marker pen. It's surprising how big it feels and tastes, doing a convincing impression of a much stronger beer. Classic mild it ain't, but it's very decent, balanced, and largely lacking in flaws. Wychwood at its best.

The national brands selection in a major supermarket turned up Montana Red Rye Ale from Fuller's. It's a fairly straight-up American-style amber ale, mixing toffee with citric hops, and I guess you get a little more bitterness than usual from the inclusion of the rye. It's only 4.5% ABV, and a little thin on it, but there are also more complex sparks of gunpowder and a dry roasted crunch. Yes the branding is a little dad-dancey, but the beer inside is a rock-solid example of the style, hitting all the right marks.

And from the same place, a token (possibly) American. I don't know where the UK supply of Goose Island beer is brewed these days. Midway is a session IPA of 4.6% ABV. I got a sense of the zingy Goose Island IPA of old from the dark gold appearance. There's a bit of it in the aroma too: grapefruit and biscuit in perfect harmony. The flavour is quite plain, bringing light stonefruit and a gentle caraway. While there is a bitter grapefruit tang and spice in the finish, it's all quite muted, tasting washed-out and industrial. I guess this is fine for a mass-market supermarket beer, but it tastes a bit cheap and lowest-common-denominator.

From most of the above, it seems that traditional British ale continues to thrive. There certainly doesn't seem to be any shortage of it.