Knock-out stout

In the black corner, the champ -- brewed since the 1780s at the Barclay Perkins brewery in Southwark, surviving the merger with Courage and now, following nearly twenty years on hiatus, revived under the stewardship of Wells & Young of Luton: the original of the species, Courage Imperial Russian Stout!

And in the other black corner, the contender -- from darkest Yorkshire, representing the entirety of progressive British craft brewing, sporting the modernist typography of the Soviet Ewe-nion: Black Sheep Imperial Russian Stout!

At the weigh-in, the champ had a few points on the sheep: 10% ABV vs. 8.5%. To keep things fair the bout was fought blindfolded. Seconds out; round 1!

No real head on either beer when poured, though what little foam there was showed much darker on the Courage. This extra density came through in the mouthfeel too, with the Black Sheep thinner and fizzier than the beautifully full and rounded Courage. Looks like this might not be much of a fight.

Black Sheep put in a good showing in the aroma, lots of lovely sweet treacle and molasses against Courage's rather bitter liquorice offering. But the knock-out punch is delivered in the flavour: Black Sheep drops its guard with an autolytic tang, producing a kind of unpleasant sour coffee effect, while the Courage avoids any big risky manoeuvers, instead going for a subtle dark smooth caramel with just a mild metallic hop tang. Deft, graceful, and the unanimous winner for the judges.

For its mix of heavyweight brawn and classically traditional flavours I don't know whether to match it against Guinness Foreign Extra or Brooklyn Black Chocolate in the next bout.

The big Bux

Buxton Brewery from Derbyshire were a newcomer to Borefts and I confess I was quite sceptical when I first saw their presence listed. Groundbreaking revolutionaries like Kernel and Thornbridge are one thing, but what is this run-of-t'mill northern micro doing there? How many Dutch beer geeks can you wow with a 1.038 brown bitter? How wrong I was: I don't know if it was their A-game that Buxton brought, but it had the beatings of many others there.

The highlight for me was Tsar Bomba, a 10% ABV imperial stout. Its origins lie in a bottle of 1978 Courage Imperial Russian Stout, sent to the lab for analysis which showed that the only thing still living in it was Courage's hungry and deathless strain of Brettanomyces. Buxton cultured it up and fermented Tsar Bomba with it. My first thought on tasting it was "Oh, Orval has made a stout." The Brett funk is right up at the front but it's not overpowering: there's enough chocolate smoothness to hold it in check, providing a residual dark sweetness that not even this beast of a yeast could chomp through. And just on the end that assertive tang of hops. A strange and challenging beer, but in a quite delicious way.

Beer name of the festival goes to Smokey and the Band-Aid, a dark ale that is apparently quite deliberate in its phenols: the name suggests to me an attempt to deal with customer expectations when something has gone wrong but I'm reliably informed that's it's an adaptation of a homebrew recipe of the head brewer. It's actually quite subtle in its smokiness, though the phenols are clear as a bell: Laphroaig or TCP coming in loud and clear while the underlying sweet 7.5% ABV stout is just about detectable beneath. It's quite a full-on experience, but still balanced and nothing to be afraid of.

Buxton also produce a terribly impressive black IPA in the form of 7.5% ABV Imperial Black.This tastes like it has been hopped every which way, being powerfully greenly bitter and also succulently fruity. Only a tiny, missable hint of roast at the end suggests dark grains, otherwise this just tastes like a really really good IPA. For those who think that the style is simply a kind of hoppy porter, this is the one to change your minds.

Two paler ones to finish off with Buxton: Wild Boar is a hazy gold blonde ale of 5.7% ABV featuring fantastically sharp and zingy hop aromas. It's more rounded on tasting, melding flowery hops with toffee malt to form delicious perfumed caramel. I'd place it broadly in the category of English IPAs which includes White Shield and Bengal Lancer, but it tastes more modern than either. For something a little stronger there's Axe Edge: leaning more heavily on the hop side of the scales, this has a heady spicy funk to it, mixing up the soft fruit and astringent medicinal character of different hop strains but providing enough of a malt base to carry them off without unbalancing the flavour altogether.

Overall a quality performance from Buxton and I'll be looking out for more of theirs.

The last British beer I had was operating covertly at the Emelisse stand. The Dutch brewery was a collaborator on Earl Grey IPA but it was brewed at the Marble Brewery in Manchester. It's a fizzy pale gold beer, just under 7% ABV but quite plain tasting. The added flavourings give it a pleasant summery honey and mandarin nose but on tasting it's more scented soap than posh tea, but barely even that.

While we're at the Emelisse bar we may as well see what else they've got. A Red IPA? How jolly! This is a nicely balanced chap, quite heavily textured but neither cloyingly sweet nor particularly hopped up. Taking a bit of a liberty with the IPA designation there, but they're hardly the first brewery to do so.

And just a quick sideways hop over to Belgium to round off this post, and a visit to the mental experimentalists of Alvinne. Some of this brewery's output can be hard to handle but I struck gold with the three I tried at Borefts, all wine-barrel-aged. Undressed is a dark ruby ale in the Flemish red vernacular and has that wonderful mouthwatering tartness that makes the style an ideal thirst-quencher. The barrel adds an even more quenching tannic quality so, despite the acetic tang on the finish, I could happily neck this in indecent quantities. But we move on to Wild West, a headless orange-amber beer with powerful lactic sourness reminding me of the most assertive lambics. Deep underneath this there's a trace of Lucozade sweetness trying to make itself heard. It has just enough of a sparkle to make it refreshing, though I couldn't say what effect the red wine barrels have had on it.

Lastly, Cuvée d'Erpigny was billed as a barley wine, but was a similar ruby-brown to the Undressed and possessed the same sort of sour Flemish red aroma. It's not sour on tasting, though, due in part I'm sure to the Montbazillac barrel it was aged in. This has imparted a distinct botrytised sweetness which, combined with the smooth and heavy texture and 13% ABV, immediately conjures Tokaji or eiswein. This combines effortlessly with the caramel malt and an unequivocal hop bite to make a beer that should be a complete mess but all works together in a fascinating way.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any more strangely delicious, we come to the last two breweries at the festival...

Snob factor 9

There's nothing we stuck-up euro beer geeks like more than cracking open a couple of lovely Sierra Nevada Torpedos and guffawing over how those clueless Americans keep getting our local styles wrong, the fools. Wheat beers tend to be Exhibit A: very few US craft breweries seem to have got the hang of the spicy Belgian variety or the full and fruitsome Bavarian iteration. And then there's tripel. I did rather enjoy the Alesmith-Mikkeller-Stone joint effort recently, but as a juicily-hopped American beer rather than a warmly piquant Belgian-style one.

Which brings me to Victory's Golden Monkey, a straight-up attempt at a tripel by the Pennsylvania brewer. This is a remarkably light and thin affair. It has that slow-building tripel warmth -- at 9.5% ABV it would want to -- but it just doesn't build high enough, dropping away into wateriness after the first few seconds. The spices are in place, but again not to enough of a degree. In fact, what with the coriander and orange peel vibe, and the lightness of touch, this could nearly pass for a very good Belgian witbier, except without the quaffability. It's a good beer, and enjoyable drinking, but I can't help feeling it needs to raise its game a bit more if it's to stand beside real Belgian tripels. That or, like the Alesmith-Mikkeller-Stone one, be its own unique thing and sod the damn Belgians.

Moving on, I'm finding it harder to be snooty about Victory's Storm King imperial stout (though obviously I'll give it my best shot) because, while I've enjoyed many in this style from American brewers, and from European craft breweries who work in the American vernacular, I've very little reference to what what an "proper" old-fashioned British imperial stout should taste like. The 16-year-old Courage Imperial Stout I had a couple of years back (thanks Ron!) wouldn't exactly be typical, though the well-balanced Czar's Imperial from White Shield brewery, sampled at last year's Great British Beer Festival, would perhaps be closer to the mark. A mark that Storm King misses completely. Now, never let it be said that I have something against big west-coast hops in black beer: I don't, and I'll offer both Yeti and Gonzo as examples of how it can be done well, even in strong dark beers. But Victory have over-egged this one badly, in my opinion. I mean, the beer smells lovely, with succulent peaches overlaying sweet dark malt: not what one might expect from an imperial stout, but good beer is good beer and labels aren't important. Hope dies with the first sip. It's horribly, sharply, bitter, and this is accentuated by very high carbonation. No quarter is given to smoothness or warmth. The roasted flavours come in second, jarringly dry and rather acrid, and the finish is given back to the hops, being harshly metallic. It's certainly an interesting beer: there's lots and lots to keep your darling little tastebuds occupied, but more in a House of Horrors sort of way than a pleasant nature walk.

So, it's not that Storm King isn't a "proper" imperial stout: I wouldn't enjoy it regardless of the designation. And I do rather like Golden Monkey for all its untripelness, I just wouldn't swap it for the "real" thing (reminding me that I have a blind tasting of tripels to do here some time soon). I guess you just have to be happy there are people out there willing to take the risk, throw tradition to the wind and mess about with so-called perceived wisdom. The world of beer is better for them.

Snobby and patronising: I'm on a roll today.

Dutch gold

I left you on a Saturday evening in Amsterdam and I was heading out for 't Arendsnest. Now, Amsterdam has more than its fair share of lovely pubs with great beer lists, but this upstairs bar on Herengracht is my new favourite. Rather than a primarily-Belgian beer list, everything here is Dutch. There's pretty much the full range, from bottles of Grolsch and Bavaria all the way up to whatever's currently good from De Prael or De Molen.

It was with the latter I started: Menno's Rasputin imperial stout. The super-smooth creamy texture is the first thing that struck me here. It makes it very easy to drink, despite the big sticky malty flavours and an intense bitterness totally unlike the acidic hopping of American versions of the style. Herself opted for one that Wildeman had been out of on Thursday: the delightfully-named Skuumkoppe by Texelse. I found this orange wheatbeer quite vapid and dull. It starts with a big sugary flavour but follows it with absolutely nothing. It's always a tragedy when the name provides more entertainment than the beer.

Of necessity, dinner was next, then straight back to the pub. My next was another Dutch stout: Van Vollenhoven Extra. You can read more about the history of this one, and how lucky I was to get hold of it, here. Under the fluffy white head is an easy-going beer with the emphasis on sweet maltiness and perhaps a touch of saccharine. Even though it's a full 7% it tastes much lighter. Simple yet satisfying.

We couldn't leave without trying the house beer, Herengracht 90 Blond. Expecting something plain and made on the cheap -- often the way with contract-brewed house beers -- what poured forth was a spicy, floral, blossomy cloudy orange beer, much more reminiscent of a saison than your bog-standard blonde ale.

It was heart-breaking to have to call it a night, but 't Arendsnest has given me a new reason to visit Amsterdam and I will be back at the next opportunity. The main reason I have for visiting Amsterdam is the beer shopping, and before bed I fitted in another couple from the Cracked Kettle. The proprietor said he was having trouble shifting Mikkeller Jackie Brown, which surprised me. My bottle had just passed its expiry date, but it was still a pretty good beer. Highly complex, it starts with a sweet café crème nose but follows with a surprisingly bitter yeasty flavour before the roasted coffee kicks in leading to a very slight sweetness on the outside edge. Phew. All this happens on a soft velvety mouthfeel which makes it less work to drink than to write about. Shame on you, Cracked Kettle customers.

Last beer of the evening was the final American of the trip, and one which seems to be on special offer all over Amsterdam: Left Hand Milk Stout. I have a certain fondness for this beer. There's really not much to it, but what's there is enjoyable: a slick milky texture, a tiny touch of bitter coffee and we're done. Better not to have a thought-provoking beer at bedtime, right?

After a bit of proper tourism (something we do occasionally, believe it or not) Sunday's drinking started in De Beiaard again. In random pinstick mode, I went for Deugniet, a strong, pale blond ale with a slightly sharp dry greenness to it -- like celery, observed Mrs Beer Nut. I quite liked it, being somewhere between a spicy blonde ale and a low-key tripel. Meanwhile, m'lady was on Dikke Mathile, choosing once more on the silly name factor. This has orange blossom on the nose and a marvellous tannic quality, similar to some of my favourite English bitters, though stronger and sweeter.

We were on our way to Ron's place where we had an invitation to share some of the goodies in his cellar. That's not the kind of invitation one turns down. So, bearing a handful of bottles of decent Irish stout (but no vodka), we arrived in to meet Ron, Dolores and the real stars of Ron's blog, Andrew and Lexie. Among the delights produced from the bowels of Patto Mansions was a tiny nip bottle of Courage Russian Imperial Stout, bottled in 1992. Fascinating it was too -- under a vinous, almost vinegary, nose, there's triple-espresso thick roasted coffee notes. A very civilised after-dinner sipping beer.

Andrew accompanied us to the local boozer, where La Chouffe and jenever were the order of the evening. I did take a bit of ticking time to try Brigand -- yet another strong blonde and one I quite enjoyed, being easy-going, smooth and fruity.

And so, clutching a couple of bottles of Ron's Whitbread recreations, we took our leave. Slightly pissed, it has to be said. And that was nearly it for the trip, though Ron's influence didn't end after we escaped his clutches. Intrigued by his review of Café Krom, we made a point of checking it out before leaving for Schiphol. There in the art deco splendour my last new beer was a Grolsch Oud Bruin. Unfortunately I still haven't found one of these to beat Heineken's. Grolsch's is rather bland. None of the unpleasant big saccharine notes of some oud bruins, but not a whole lot else, sadly.

Final stop before the airport train was De Bierkoning for a last couple of beery bits and pieces, and that was our lot. Thanks again for your very generous hospitality, Ron.

Roll on Copenhagen...