Showing posts with label einstök toasted porter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label einstök toasted porter. Show all posts

21 July 2021

Midnight sunny

I'm sure they value their summers in Iceland at least as much as we do down here. Three season-appropriate beers from Einstök arrived recently, all new to Ireland.

Arctic Lager looks like a straightforward 4.7% ABV pale job but the can tells us it's dry-hopped with Citra, which should add something beyond the norm. The aroma certainly shows a pale-ale level of fruitiness, gentle rather than sharp though, with peach and lychee. A proper Citra bitterness punches through in the foretaste: lemon rind plus a certain tannic astringency. It doesn't let go of the stonefruit, however, and that lingers in the background. What's missing is the lager side. As often happens when new-world hops are involved, the crispness disappears and the drinker loses the benefit of it being a lager. Still, it's decent and flavourful, packing a lot into a modest package. I have little to complain about here.

That's an implied summer seasonal; the next one is explicit. The viking on the can is wearing sunglasses! Arctic Berry Ale is described as a "white ale brewed with bilberries", or "blueberry witbier" as one might call it more economically. I though the berries would give it a blue tint but it poured quite a plain deep yellow colour. Mind you, the aroma is packed with blueberries: sweet and tart, to the point of smelling concentrated and jammy. That sweet, slightly artificial, candy perfume effect forms the backbone of the flavour. I feel there ought to be some wheaty softness to base it on but it's surprisingly thin for 5% ABV. The underlying beer doesn't really feature as flavour or texture. It's fun and refreshingly summery, though at the same time it's a bit of a one-dimensional novelty. One could even validly level the accusation of tasting like an alcopop at it. Stolidly nordic it ain't.

Things get weirder with the final one: Lime & Juniper Pils. Our viking is wearing a bowler hat (as historically accurate as his horned helmet, in fairness) which suggests they're going for a gin-and-tonic vibe here. Instead it ends up closer to Desperados. The juniper doesn't get much of a look-in, maybe a faint perfume in the finish, and neither really does the pils: no crispness, no fresh grass. End-to-end it's sticky lime cordial. A thick biscuity base accentuates the sweetness and is what makes this a different proposition to the clean and dry Rascals lime lager from earlier this summer. While only 4.8% ABV it feels much heavier, a lot more like an ale than a lager. This doubles down on the problems found in the Arctic Lager above.

Given that Einstök's beers are produced in a big factory which mostly churns out lager, it's strange that they don't seem to have got it right. Their reliable and unfussy porter remains the best thing they make, and possibly also the cleanest and most lager-like. Go figure.

04 February 2013

Skálduggery

I smelled a bit of a rat when I first encountered the Einstök range up north. Icelandic beer, in the supermarket, with an English language label? It screams inauthenticity (a difficult word to scream, in fairness). But it's only sort-of inauthentic: the beers are actually brewed in Iceland, albeit under contract at a large industrial brewery. The brand itself is American-owned and the beers are barely available in Iceland: they're certainly not typical of the place.

Missing the seasonal Doppelbock, I got three from the range and the first I opened was Einstök White Ale, brewed with coriander and orange peel. So, a witbier then. Well, not really. They've got some lovely juicy citrus fruit and a hint of the herbal spice, but it's totally clear: a wan yellow-gold. And I think the spicing you get from suspended witbier yeast is an important part of making this sort of beer worth drinking. But witbier isn't a style to get precious over: it's intended as quaffable summery refreshment and that's exactly what you get with this. Drinking closer to the source, Icelandic blogger Haukur had similar thoughts, though his beer was properly hazy.

Next I tried the Einstök Pale Ale. At 5.6% ABV and a deep orange colour, this started me thinking immediately of English-style IPA. It has a bit of the marmalade too, but not nearly enough hops. In fact, it's a bit sticky, with more burnt sugar than fruit or bitterness. The bottle had been sitting about for a few months so I may have missed the best of the hop flavour and aroma, but it's hard to believe they disappeared leaving so little trace. I'm not about to run out for a fresh one anyway.

Dessert in this puffin-free Icelandic feast is the Toasted Porter, 6% ABV and quite thick with it, forming a long-lasting ivory head over a black body tinged with red at the edges. The aroma certainly lives up to the "Toasted" moniker, exuding an intense burnt roasty dryness. It's not all toast in the flavour, however, and there's a generous dose of dark chocolate and coffee to lighten the load. Not to add weight to this particular style argument, but this porter reminds me more of many an English mild, what with the roast, and then a vaguely fruity finish suggesting damsons and plum jam.

Icelandic dark mild: could be a winner.