Into the sunset

My wonky palate is no stranger to WTF reactions: beers I like that nobody else does; beers I can't be having but which are lauded far and wide by those in the know. It rarely bothers me, though if the plaudits are loud enough I will go back for second and third helpings of something I didn't enjoy, and sometimes this pays off eventually: Timothy Taylor Landlord is my reference example of a beer that took me ages to "get" but whose attractions I now understand. It's extra pleasing, though rare, to watch a popular beer I don't like gradually fall out of favour with the commentariat. Are your ears burning, Doom Bar?

Why all this concern over the relative merits of beers? It's The Session once again and the theme is Against The Grain: those instances where our tastes vary from the wider drinking community, and the broader question of what makes a beer actually a good beer: what we're tasting, or what everybody else thinks?

I'll admit that when it comes to making recommendations I do distinguish between the ones I like and which lots of other people say they do too ("This is an excellent beer") and the ones where I'm on less sure ground but want to share my experience ("I'm particularly fond of..."). The bottom line, of course, is that taste is subjective, but there's a lot to be said for the consensus. While the front and back ends of the beer rating bell curves are full of herd mentality nonsense, there's lots of very useful information in the middle ground and I believe it is possible to determine the relative value of a middle-range beer from what value the raters and advocates have collectively assigned to it. Cheers to them.

Today's beer hasn't had enough Beer Advocate ratings to warrant a grade, but scores just 14% on RateBeer. Was it the attractive shiny packaging that attracted me to it? The chance to tick a beer from a brewery that no longer exists? Or was it the €1 price tag? Probably a combination of all three is what made me ignore Richard in DrinkStore's warning that Cains Calcutta Pale Ale was no good. In favour of his argument it's a piddling 2.8% ABV, brewed for the tax break and also two days past its best before. But look at the (African?) elephant carrying the hop flower! Awww!

It's a happy darkish amber colour with a thin layer of fine white foam on top. It smells quite minerally with subtle hints of sugar and spice. No wateriness at all about the mouthfeel: it's thick, even a little sticky. Yes, there's not much by way of flavour: mild toffee is the most prominent quiet element, followed by something slightly metallic. Not far off brown bitter territory, really.

This recreates admirably the sensation of drinking real beer and is certainly far better than any alcohol free beer I've tasted. There's little point in me recommending it to you, or lauding it as something to trawl the bargain buckets for, but I consider my euro well spent.

Amber is in

As usual I trooped down to the Franciscan Well on Easter Saturday for their annual festival of Irish beers. There's generally a wide range of offerings at this, and 2013 was no exception, despite a no-show from the UCC Pilot Brewery to add their own Germanic flavour. Yet amongst all the variety I noticed a bit of a theme in the beers I drank: amber and hoppy is where it's at.

I set the tone with Garnet, a two-Chameleons-ago amber ale by Metalman. A bit of a candystore beer, this, mixing rich and buttery Werther's Originals with tangy Refresher chews. Though light and very drinkable it leaves a long and satisfying aftertaste. Up at the Dungarvan stand, Cormac was pouring Mahon Falls, a rye pale ale based on the one they had, briefly, at the Dublin festival last September. Although the recipe has been altered slightly there's still no grassy rye flavours in here, which is great. Instead you get a puckeringly bitter grapefruit bite, followed up by softer and juicier peach notes. At almost 5% ABV it's on the strong side for a Dungarvan beer, though the malt contributes little to the flavour other than a platform to carry extra hops.

Meanwhile, around at the White Gypsy bar there was the welcome return of Mustang, a pale ale I've heard much about but never got to taste before. It's a 6.5% ABV American-style pale ale, though definitely on the amber end of the colour scale. I was expecting big and hoppy but it's much more complex than that, including some smoke in with the tangy citrus and dank funk and toffee. Half a pint didn't do it justice. There was also a rather nice Cascade-dry-hopped cask special of Trouble Sabotage: its weight and warmth proving an ideal antidote to the chilly conditions.

So much for the amber, let's get some gold and black in for balance. Seven Windows Brewery is due to open in Cork before the end of the year. Mi Daza stout was the first beer produced under the brand, contract brewed at Franciscan Well, and it's joined now by Sunbeam pils. It's a very pale yellow but is beautifully put together, starting with fresh lemon sherbet and ending on lovely digestive biscuit. Very moreish.

Galway Hooker, meanwhile, had brought along their enigmatic stout-of-many-names. Originally called Bonaparte it can also be found labelled as Dark Haus and BH001 although here it was simply badged Galway Hooker Irish Stout. Though light of texture it's fantastically creamy and big on the chocolate flavours, but suffered a little from being served very cold.

I know how it feels too. After a few hours wandering about the chilly yard I took shelter in the upstairs bar where festival punters were being treated to an unexpected boon from Molson Coors's takeover of Franciscan Well: a range of cask beers from Sharp's. Not an unqualified boon, mind: yawnworthy Doom Bar was there, joined by the equally dull and grainy Cornish Coaster, plasticine flavoured Sharp's Special, boring brown Sharp's Own and the almost completely tasteless '90s throwback Sharp's Ice. But I'm less willing to hurl insults at Black Rock IPA, a fairly simple black IPA with a fun white lemonade flavour and a mild acidic bite. The highlight for me, however, was Panzerfaust, a black gose. This has a beautiful sherbet piquancy to it with darker treacle overtones and served barely carbonated for supreme drinkability. Molson Coors appear to be ramping up their presence on the Irish beer scene more and more. Further beer of Panzerfaust quality would be a welcome intrusion.

A rare occurrence

Hooray for freebies! This collection arrived courtesy of Molson Coors Ireland who seem to be on a bit of a PR drive at the moment, hot on the heels of their recent acquisition of the Irish microbrewing veteran Franciscan Well down in Cork. No Rebel Red in the bundle, however. Instead there was a bottle of Sharp's Doom Bar: a dull brown bitter which even from the cask I've never been a fan of, and which isn't in any way helped by the clear glass bottle. Also a bottle each of rightly acknowledged classic English IPA Worthington's White Shield and the newer blonde ale Red Shield: a worthy sibling. A bottle of P2 imperial stout would have closed off this set from the William Worthington Brewery in Burton nicely, but moochers can't be choosers.

And then the ones that really interested me: three brand extensions from the company's American faux-craft line, Blue Moon. The styles are varied -- a pale ale, an amber ale and an abbey beer -- yet the strengths are pretty uniform at around 5½% ABV.

I opened the Belgian-Style Pale Ale first, a beer known elsewhere as Pale Moon. I notice the unpleasantness a few years ago with the Confederation of Belgian Breweries hasn't prevented them describing this as a "Belgian Pale Ale" elsewhere on the label, despite it never having been near the low countries in its life. Corporate shenanigans aside, how does it taste? Well, not of very much. It's far more of a dark amber than would be normal for a pale ale, and there's a weight which comes with that: a slightly sugary malt thing, though without any of the caramel or toffee depth that one might expect. On top of this there's a mild fruity tang which I think owes more to the orange peel and hibiscus they've inexplicably thrown in here than the Cascade hops they also claim. The label adds further that wheat has been included, making the whole thing a sort of hybrid of standard Blue Moon and pale ale. Odd that it doesn't have more going on in it then, but it's not unpleasant either. Anyone looking for an American-style pale ale, or something in the Taras Boulba genre, will be sorely disappointed.

I was hoping for something a bit more interesting from Blue Moon Spiced Amber Ale. This is a few grades darker: a beautiful chestnut red and lighter in texture than the Pale Ale. Complex it isn't, but it's certainly interesting. The one flavour that jumps out is the cinnamon, toasted grain and brown sugar of Christmas cookies, not in any way sickly or artificial, but smooth and pleasantly warming. This is one of two Blue Moon winter seasonals and is perfectly, seasonally winterish.

Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Blue Moon Winter Abbey Ale. This poured quite a pale, clear red and completely headless, despite lots of interfering fizz. Unsurprisingly it's sweet and caramelly but this isn't given any fruity depth by any Belgian yeast flavours, which makes it a non-runner as an abbey beer. Overall it's just too thin and one-dimensional to be worth anyone's time, especially since it'll likely be sharing shelf space and price brackets with several world-class Belgian dubbels.

Generally speaking, Molson Coors's attempt to twist their passable orangey wheat beer into different styles is not something that's in the drinker's interest, even when he's getting the bottles for nothing.

Reserve judgement

Ruth Deveney tells the story of how she got hold of a case of Knappstein Reserve Lager, from Australia's Clare Valley, over on her own blog. It's an odd fish in many ways: for a start, the winery/brewery where it's brewed works by hand with small batches, despite being owned by multinational drinks giant Lion Nathan, makers of such luminaries as Castlemaine XXXX and Tooheys. But possibly the weirdest thing about this beer is the title and description: it claims to be a Bavarian-style lager -- and Ruth even claims to know someone who's had beer like this in small-town Bavaria -- but it's far away from anything I've ever tasted from Germany.

Light, delicate fruit flavours are at the centre, the sort of melon and passionfruit you'd associate with a Gewürztraminer, or even Tokaji. The texture is reminiscent of a dessert wine: heavy and almost sticky, but the light sparkle removes any possibility of it becoming difficult to drink. This all makes it very hard to believe that it's a mere 5.6% ABV -- it could easily pass for 8 in my estimation. Magnificent post-prandial summer sipping.

The roster of other beers (all English) for tasting last Thursday is here, and there were a few of my current favourites in there. I discovered a new joy of Meantime London Stout, finding it much fuller and tastier than the first time I tried it. The only new one for me was Sharp's Single Brew Reserve 2008 -- of the recently-arrived Sharp's bottled beers, only this is not presented in clear glass.

I don't think I've met a Sharp's beer I've liked -- Doom Bar I found acceptable but rather dull; Chalky's Bite is much too lacking in flavour for a Belgian-style ale. Single Brew Reserve starts promising, if odd, with a nose full of weiss-y bananas and some very girly peaches and flowers, all from a serious looking dark amber body. But there's really not much beyond this: the beer is very light on taste, with only a hint of that fruitiness and maybe a touch of caramel. Another understated mediocrity from Sharp's, I'm afraid.

Needless to say, it was a couple of bottles of the Knappstein I walked off with at the end of the session. There's just the one case, so if you're interested I recommend high-tailing it to Dundrum forthwith.

Bloomsbury set

My belief that London is always more than a day's work is something of a bone of contention between me and my employers. Even with the miracle of the Heathrow Express, I do not believe it's possible to get from the southside of Dublin to central London in time for a 9.30am event and have any attention span left by wrap-up at 4.30 and the always-delayed evening flight home. My protestations will continue but I think my most recent trip to the big smoke, just over a week ago, may well be the last to involve an overnighter for a one-day event.

As a result, I made the most of it. My travelling companion was up for a few pints of the decent but probably wouldn't have appreciated any seriously-long crosstown beer pilgrimages, so I kept it simple.

First stop after checking in to our Bloomsbury hotel was The Lamb. I had been meaning to have a nosy at this jewel of Victoriana for quite a while (I didn't take any photos, so thanks to Flickr user Ewan_M for the image right). The décor is surprisingly understated: calming green leather and brasswork instead of the eye-watering stained-glass-and-mosaics I was half expecting. Nothing I fancied was on tap so I opted for a bottle of Kew Gold, the green and white label making it the most distinctive occupant of the fridge. It's a golden ale and I enjoyed it: lovely refreshing citrus notes, zingy like good light Czech lager, and in the same vein as Theakston's excellent Golden Sheep.

It was getting on for 10pm at this point and pub kitchens had mostly closed, as far as I could see. Wandering down to Holborn I reckoned the Wetherspoon there -- Penderel's Oak -- offered the best opportunity for quick and easy eats. Stonch would have loved it: cavernous, clueless staff and, yes, a group of gamers guffawing loudly over spacecraft weaponry at the next table. From the guest ales on offer I started with a pint of Black Bear, Beartown Brewery's mild. It opened with some lovely milk chocolate notes -- just what I'm after in a mild. This was overtaken shortly afterwards by a sugary sour note which left me wondering if this was deliberate or if the beer was slightly off. By the end of the pint, however, it had gone and the chocolate came back. I'd give this another go, should the opportunity arise, but the jury's out for the moment.

(Side-note: behind the Black Bear pump above you can see two flicked switches at bar level belonging to this tap and the next one. I've noticed these in a few cask ale outlets, generally the dodgier ones. Some places have them on only some of the taps. What are they?) Last pint of the evening was a pale ginger ale from Everards called Sly Fox. The thin and watery body was more than compensated for by the strong fiery ginger flavour. A bit more of a malty-hoppy-beery taste would be nice, but it's still a refreshing quaffer if consumed sufficiently cold.

The following day was work. Lunchtime afforded the opportunity for a rapid cheeky pint down at the Museum Tavern (left). Sadly, no Theakston's brews were on offer, so I picked the well-reputed Doom Bar from Sharp's. It's a fairly innocuous substance, amber-brown and full-bodied with a lovely big creamy head. The flavour I found somewhat lacking -- not much malt and just a tiny vegetal tang on the end to indicate the presence of hops, but still enjoyable on a textural basis.

My colleague and I parted company at clocking-out time. He went off for a peek at the Elgin marbles while I did some cultural tourism of my own. To get the best bang for the limited time available, and to check out one of the most controversial boozers among Stonch readers, I headed for The Bree Louise near Euston. Even before the after-work crowd filled it, it was loud and awkwardly laid out. Tables scattered in the middle of the floor make it resemble nothing so much as a mini paint-by-numbers chain pub or shabby business motel bar. Full credit for the beer selection, however.

I started with one from the gravity casks (my attempt to photograph same [left] engendered the pictured response from a friendly barman. I don't think you need focus to determine his customer-centred, service-driven reaction. Lovely). Eden Ale is another from Sharp's, and I was wholly unimpressed: a thin, musty, flat amber ale not worth the time spent writing about it, never mind drinking it. I stayed in the West Country for the next one -- Proper Job, from St Austell. This is a well-balanced pale ale with a nice sharp fruity bitterness to it, including a fleeting hint of grapefruit. It manages to have a full and satisfying body while remaining light and drinkable. One of the better summer beers around.

Cottage's summer seasonal You Cannot Be Serious came next, the tennis being on. It's an interesting pale, dry ale with a sharp fruity nose, reminding me of nothing so much as a Belgian framboise. The tartness continues in the flavour, and there's a creamy full body as well. Could it be that those aren't raspberries and they're going for strawberries and cream here? If so, I'm tickled. I enjoyed it anyway. Also from Cottage is Paws, a dark-coloured but light-textured amber ale. I got dark fruits and dark chocolate from it, putting me in mind of cherry liqueur chocolates. It's good and malty as well, in the style of Bishop's Finger, only with less weight and a more complex flavour.

I began to feel the clock was against me at this point and I left myself plenty of time for the journey to Paddington. Enough for a swift half in the Mad Bishop and Bear on arrival, as it turned out, and as well as the usual Fuller's range plus Tribute, they had a second St Austell beer on: Tinners. This was wonderfully mild and refreshing after the unpleasantness of rush hour Tube. There's a slight sharp, sulphurous dryness to it, making it interesting and light without being thin: the perfect railway station beer-in-a-hurry.

Having met my colleague again, the temptation for a last pint in the landside Terminal 1 bar was too great. The place was also markedly less jammed than I'm used to. Burton Bridge XL was the guest, but I wasn't terribly impressed with it. A bland amber bitter with a pleasant texture and a decent head, but not much to say for itself flavourwise. With that drained and forgotten, we were off through security and heading for the sheet-metal tunnels of gates 80-90 where flights for Ireland depart: an area unaffectionately known as The Paddyshack. They've done some remodelling on the airside part of Terminal 1, making the walk to the gate even longer. However, it does now pass through the main departure lounge, which means I have an outside chance of a final cask pint on the far side of security when I travel through Heathrow following the Great British Beer Festival next month. If I'm about to lose my fight on overnighters in London it'll be well worth my while.