Where they do things differently

The Glider is a modern marvel. Belfast's metro-like bus-with-notions runs transversely across the city, from west to east, passing plenty of the city's beer destinations on the way. A new curiosity has arrived at the eastern G1 terminus in Dundonald. As has been reported far and wide, Lidl NI has chosen to open a fully-operational pub in the same building as their supermarket, to subvert local licensing restrictions. I went up to have a look.

Knowing, presumably, how much of a curiosity The Middle Ale would be, and the potential for positive publicity, the chain has gone to more effort than it strictly needed to. Although there's nothing distinctive about the exterior, the inside has been designed to a definite theme, based on the old-fashioned Irish pub-grocer, as befits a kind of modern day equivalent. The shelves are lined with decorative versions of Lidl food and homewares, not to advertise them seriously, but to fit the theme. With that goes shiplap-style painted-wood walls and ceiling, lighting in the style of early electrification, and even little vestigial drawers behind the counter, as though for storing loose produce. That it's all garishly coloured in the company's red, yellow and blue, rather than more realistic earthy ochre or olive green, takes away from the effect and reminds one that it's all a bit of set dressing. But it's fun, like drinking in the on-stage pub from a pantomime.

The drinks offer... well, they've made a bit of an effort. For the most part, the draught options are what you might expect to find in a mainstream Norn Irish pub with a tie to C&C: Tennent's, Heverlee, Bulmer's, Bud Light, Guinness and the one surprise, Estrella Damm. When I lived in the province, such a basic array would absolutely have included C&C-brewed keg Bass as well, and it was a little jarring to see it's not part of what's plainly an out-of-the-box factory-settings beer line-up. I bet the marketing wunderkind who came up with "The Middle Ale" didn't think to ask if the pub would sell any ale. It doesn't.

While you can buy Lidl-brand wine and spirits behind the bar, the logistics of doing the same for draught beer would have been impractical. This is where the effort shows, though: an additional beer tap is badged as the own-brand Crafty Brewing Lager, and while I strongly suspect it's hooked up to a keg of Rye River's Bidin' Time, I also have my suspicions about whether or not those are two different beers in any meaningful way.

None of this was getting me any new ticks, however. I had to turn to the bottle options for that. Now, you know I love a bit of knock-off branding from the German discounters. I had never taken a punt on either of the main rivals' Corona clones, because they're only in six-packs and that's too much commitment to a beer that's likely undrinkable. At The Middle Ale, however, they'll do you a single of Camaro, and even shove a wedge of lime in it.

I understand that the lightstrike-proof hop substitute that big-brand clear-glass lagers are made from is quite expensive. That it's not in use here is painfully obvious, even sniffing through the tiny aperture of a longneck. The pub hasn't been open long but this was still skunked from its time in the glass-fronted fridge. That's present in the flavour too, but is far from the worst thing about it. There's a horrific cooked-sweetcorn savoury quality, turning to popcorn husk in the finish. The little jet of real lime from the wedge does genuinely help by masking some of the awfulness, but it's a bad time from start to finish. The mainstream versions of this type of beer are mostly very bland and treated a little unfairly in the discourse; the Lidl one, however, tastes as bad as all the jokes about them say they do.

A better drinks offer might have had me spending a little more time there, soaking in the Disney-does-country-grocer ambiance, but nothing took my fancy. Back on the Glider, then.

I didn't have any to-do list beyond that, although I'd never had a pint in the downstairs bar of The Ulster Sports Club, so decided to fix that next. It was quiet and cool in there, and downstairs was the only option as the Out of Office brewery taproom on the upper floor hadn't opened yet. I had a pint of their session IPA: Pencil Pusher.

This is a modest 4% ABV and pale yellow with a light but definite haze. The flavour is crisp at first: plain and a little grainy, before the hops kick in, bringing a fresh and pithy citric bitterness. It took a moment for anything else to appear, beyond the initial grapefruit, and that's a sweeter and slightly sticky stewed peach effect. It remains zippy and refreshing, however, and well-chosen as a regular on the more mainstream downstairs bar. There's little to dislike about it.

All roads lead to The Sunflower, and it was busy in the sunny beer garden, though a little quieter indoors, before the Friday after-work crowd fully descended. Galway Bay makes the house beer here: Sunny Lager. It's pretty unchallenging fare, though well made. It's a crystal-clear golden colour, looking like lager perfection, and is softly textured, the body full for something only 4.3% ABV and likely brewed to a price point. Where I cynically expected it to be bland, the flavour has a colourful floral quality, tasting of summer meadows and tasteful bouquets. Maybe the appropriate weather we had enhanced my impression of it, and it wouldn't be as engaging on a dismal grey afternoon. Quality is quality, however, and I would come back to this.

On the guest cask was El Dorado, a pale ale from Manchester brewery ShinDigger. They had it served nicely cold, which was appreciated. This is another pale and clear one, and has much in common with the lager, being plain and decent, with a subtle hop flavour. Here, that's a light zing of orange and grapefruit, though without any proper bitter kick. It's hard to dislike, but I had turned to the cask in search of complexity, and attracted by the name of the beer being the name of a hop. There's an element of false pretences about it: it's far from the hop showcase one might think it would be.

And with that it was back home to Dublin. I didn't get any proper exploring of Belfast done but felt I did the city's beer scene a little bit of justice. Whether it's worth gliding out to Dundonald to see how Lidl does a pub isn't for me to say. Don't go for the beer offer is all I have to add to the conversation.

One of these things is not like the others

Last year I promised myself that for the next Wetherspoon Real Ale Festival I'd go and explore the newer northern branches of the chain in Dublin. Sadly, time constraints last weekend meant that plan had to go on the long finger so, on a beautiful clear cool Saturday morning I set off, as usual, for Dún Laoghaire.

Word on the street was that Mild the Gap was the beer to look out for, brewed at Hook Norton by Italian brewery MC-77. Happily it was on the bar when I rocked up to The Forty Foot. It arrived looking unattractively half-headed, though pleasingly jet-black underneath. The ABV is on the high side for mild at 4.5%, but otherwise it's a very very good interpretation of the style. The texture is light, without being thin, with a delicate creaminess precision-engineered for premium drinkability. It took genuine effort to drink slowly enough to get an impression of the flavour. This is a gentle coffee character -- a light dry roast up front, fading to a faint back of the throat bitterness. There's a very slight forest-fruit tang to this as well, but it's not in any way sharp, with everything softened by that mellow cream. One pint screamed out for another but as a disciplined scooper I was deaf to its cries.

Moving to thirds, then, and a California-themed pale ale from Hilden. Pale Oat Ale is 4.8% ABV and employs a power combo of American hops: Chinook, Citra, Columbus and Mount Hood. It certainly looks west-coast: properly bright and golden. I was expecting citrus but the flavour is a strangely sweet coconut vibe instead. There's a leafy herbal bitterness behind this, and it's set on quite a heavy, almost syrupy, body. It's a strange one but actually highly enjoyable. Complex and off-kilter, yet a pint or two would be no hardship at all. Bet it goes great with curry too.

Next, the dad-dancey new one from Yorkshire's Black Sheep: Pathmaker. Some branding consultant told them that a lumbersexual with a hop beard on the clip would bring the kids in. Urgh. But... this is another rather good beer even if, again, it's very definitely British in its sensibilities. Though the hop is Chinook all the way through, there's a soft bubblegum flavour which is much more at home in summery English blonde than any US pale ale. Just a twang of herbal bitterness enters the picture on the end, incorporating Chinook's signature spice, while underneath the hop special effects is a solid biscuit malt base. The green hop oils linger long on the palate, probably reducing its value as a session beer, despite a modest ABV of just 4%. After only a third I was worried about being able to taste the next beer properly.

The next beer was another international collaboration: Brazilian Burton, brewed at Banks's in Wolvo. 5% ABV is a bit light for a Burton by my reckoning, though the rich dark copper colour is spot-on. The flavour seems to be an attempt at presenting an illusion of strength, showing marker-pen phenols up front and then rich caramel and cocoa behind. It doesn't really work for me: hot without being actually warming. The hop quotient definitely needs a boost.

Before making tracks for Blackrock, I noticed a new addition to the keg line-up on the bar. Wetherspoon Ireland now sells Bud Light, a beer I had never tasted, despite its brief period in production by Diageo. I'm guessing the version served here is brewed by A-B InBev in the UK. Interestingly, it was being sold even cheaper than the cask beers at The Forty Foot: just €2.45 a pint. That it's only 3.5% ABV probably has something to do with that: the locally-brewed version was never that weak, as far as I recall. And in marked contrast to the low-ABV British brewing tradition, it's incredibly watery and it takes work to detect anything other than fizz in the flavour. Given a moment or two to warm up there's a harsh wax bitterness and warm-fermentation fruit esters, both flaring for a second before fading to a metallic jag in the finish. It's hard to be offended by something so anodyne, but I definitely can't think of a use-case for this beer: there is no circumstance under which something a little more flavourful would not be more appropriate.

It had turned 3pm and the queue was five-deep at the bar. Time to pack up and head for the more refined surroundings of the Three Tun Tavern in Blackrock.

I was pleased to see an Oakham beer on here, one I wasn't familiar with. Enough Rope is another American-hopped job, dark gold and 4.3% ABV. It's nearly very good: the hopping is exceedingly generous and it's assertively bitter, in a way Oakham have made their own with beers like Citra and Green Devil. But this particular half had a problematic rubbery overtone which I'm not sure is part of the spec. Every mouthful starts with a horrible astringency which then calms down and becomes merely a sharp citric kick. On balance it's not very enjoyable. There's a frustratingly good beer underneath, but spoiled by that wonky foretaste.

Yet more American hops to follow: Midland Red by Everards is brewed with Amarillo, Columbus and Willamette. It's a properly autumnal red colour and even tastes autumnal: I get woody maple, strong comforting tea and distant smoke. After the jangling loudness of the previous beer it's all wonderfully calming. The flavour is aided by a beautifully rounded mouthfeel, the sort of texture that British cask ale brewers can turn out at 4.5% ABV which everyone else needs to go past the 6% mark to achieve. This was one of those beers that makes the twice-yearly Wetherspoon excursion worthwhile.

The final pair of halves were not on the festival roster, but since they're there... Farmer's Branch first, a blonde ale from Dukeries in Nottinghamshire. It's very husky: dry dusty grain, with overtones of white vinegar. I suspect this had been on a while and was definitely past its best. Unusual for a Wetherspoon, that, even in Ireland.

That had me worried about the last of the day's halves, Mahseer IPA from Suffolk's Green Jack brewery. It's 5.8% ABV and an attractive amber colour. The flavour is odd. I don't think it's expired or infected, but there's a strange acetone quality to it: pear drops more than nail varnish remover, but in that zone. It's not harsh, though, having an endearing soft fruity quality, but it's also nothing like an IPA -- even an English one -- the bitterness level being pretty much zero. It's pleasant drinking and doesn't taste as strong as it is, but I reckon there's something in there that would make it feel like a bruiser the morning after a few pints of it.

The mild and the red are my top picks for this round, with honourable mentions to Hilden and Black Sheep. The festival runs all this week until Sunday. The beer costs next to nothing.