Joyful mystery

"Framing" is what Andrew calls the phenomenon of beer label description -- the text that tells you what to expect when you pop the cap and pour out the foamy goodness. It reminds me of Ron's definition of a beer style as "a consensus between brewer and drinker, a shorthand to describe the essential features of a beer". While you don't want a beer that's brewed to rigidly conform to standards set by someone other than the brewer, you do at least want some information on what to expect -- dark or pale; hoppy or malty; sessionable or likely to knock you on your arse after one. Framing beer is a matter of practical necessity.

And yet, I love throwing away the frame. I love to pick a beer totally at random and drink it with no previous knowledge of what it's going to look or taste like. It's far more fun than tracking down the much-sought-after brew that everyone else is talking about (though I do enjoy that too). All I know about Belzebuth is that it's French and that it's 13% ABV -- understandably this is advertised in massive bright orange characters on the neck: the only frame the brewery really wants you to be aware of. So what's inside? Nectar or tramp juice?

Obviously glass selection is a problem with mystery beer. I opted for my Duvel one with the vague expectation of this being a Belgian-style blonde, based mostly on the satanic moniker, though this is a great multi-purpose glass and will show off most beers to their fullest.

I was wrong on the blondeness anyway: it pours amber with lots of head which dissipated quite quickly, giving off a lightly boozy nose, with hints of pale sherry or white vermouth.

The first taste was a shock: incredibly syrupy, in a realm beyond Special Brew or similar stupidly strong soupy beer. Yet it's not one for the sink. There's enough of a proper hops bitterness to save it and make it a worthwhile sipper. The heavy and bittered malt flavour reminded me a lot of some beer schnapps I picked up in Munich, and that's how I think this beer is best treated. Take an hour over 25cl in what's basically a brandy glass.

I never enjoyed the similarly-strong Belgian ale Bush and haven't tasted it in years. This has got me thinking that liqueur-style sipping may be the correct approach. To be continued...

The great taste of brut

It's a beer I've been intensely curious about for years, staring at me from the end of the top shelf in Redmond's every time I go in. However, it took my recent visit to Brussels for me to finally buy a bottle of DeuS, attracted by the bargain basement price of €10.

The manual attached to the neck outlines the tortuous method of brewing and conditioning this "brut des Flandres". It's made and bottled in Belgium then shipped to France to mature.

Despite the champagne overtones in the presentation, this is quite a sweet and fruity honey-coloured ale. The strength is a prodigious 11.5% ABV, but it bears no resemblance to the likes of Bush or any other high-alcohol Belgian. Instead, it's a rather light, sippable affair with pronounced overtones of clove and ginger.

DeuS is, by all accounts an odd beer. I don't know if all the work that goes into it is really worthwhile, but it is certainly well-crafted and interesting.

Sedimental journey

I hadn't intended for my weekend's drinking to have a theme, it just turned out that way.

On the roster were three beers I'd been meaning to try for ages but hadn't got round to, and all with their gritty little secrets.

First up was Hen's Tooth. I'm a big fan of Old Speckled Hen, so I thought it only just to give the reserve beer a go. I wasn't disappointed: it's incredibly smooth and delicately flavoured, very similar to the best pints of draught cask ale I've had in Britain. And it has a hefty 6.5% strength, so much more satisfying than the 3-4.5% that ales tend to hover around. And surprisingly, the sediment didn't get in the way. I did my best to keep it out of the glass, but some of it ended up suspended in my pint. Didn't affect the flavour though, or at least not unpleasantly.

Continuing on the enhanced editions theme, I tried a bottle of Aventinus Eisbock. Schneider Weisse is my favourite German beer, and their Aventinus is great too, so I figured the concentrated Aventinus was definitely worth a go, despite the €5.50 price tag. No strength on the label was the first black mark. I read, however, that it's around 12%. This is the same as Bush, Belgium's strongest beer, and the taste was similar too: ultra-heavy and very cloying. After a few sips I managed to get into it, but it's hard, chewy work. A 330ml bottle and a considerable quantity of sediment meant that at least the experience was curtailed slightly. This stuff is an acquired taste for sure, and given the price I'm not sure it's wholly worth the effort.

Last up was a beer I've seen many times but hadn't considered buying because it looks so unassuming: Cooper's Sparkling Ale. Australian beer for me is limited to Toohey's Extra Dry and Carlton Cold, and even then only when I'm actually in Australia and have limited choice (though I do recall a great Carlton Cold drinks promtion in an Irish bar in Hong Kong some years back). Recently while trawling the Internet for beer suggestions I happened across a review of Cooper's Sparkling that made enormous claims for it -- a true connoisseur's beer, a proper ale from a country where beer terminology is badly abused. However, while it does stand above its compatriots, this stuff just can't cut it in a European context. The taste just isn't bold enough, leaving it watery and having an annoying fine sediment. I can completely understand why one would turn to this if VB or Toohey's New was your only other option, but otherwise I don't get it. One for the ex-pats only, methinks.