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.

Siesta cerveza

The rhythm of Madrid takes a bit of getting used to. The city sleeps late and parties all night. Those bars that do open during the day tend to run a lunch shift until 4 and then close until 8. This meant that just around the time when the thirsty tourist is looking for his first beer of the day he's met with closed shutters. Thankfully El Corte Inglés came to the rescue and I filled the dead hours of the early evening with beers from its shelves, cooled in the hotel minibar fridge.

The first ones that attracted me were the dark lagers on offer, though they're a mixed bag to say the least. Alhambra Negra pours a promising deep brown colour but has very little by way of flavour -- just a carbonic sort of dryness -- and basically no body. I had higher hopes for Mexico's iconic Negra Modelo, in its stubby gold-top bottle, but unfortunately it's a bit rubbish too. A surprisingly light shade of ruby, it tastes a little of caramel and banana, but otherwise is close to typical pale lager in the flavourlessness stakes. Ambar Negra was much better: definitely black and with strong molasses notes on the nose. The flavour is appropriately sweet -- lots of treacle and brown sugar. It's a simple beer, but very drinkable. Best of the blacks, though, came from the ubiquitous house of Mahou. Mahou Negra is a lovely shade of dark red and smells oddly woody. The flavour puts dry ahead of sweetness, the caramel notes infused with smoke. There's a full body which makes it very satisfying to drink and almost akin to a stout.

When the bars did open, however, it was Mahou that was normally on tap: an unpleasantly dull and slightly cabbagey pale lager. The pub market seems largely shared between it and Cruzcampo, with very little of the Estrella Damm or San Miguel, so common in Barcelona, to be seen. I did pick up one bottle from the former brewery, though -- AK Damm was on sale in Corte Inglés and I liked the look of the fancy bottle. It's a smooth Munich-esque lager with soft candyfloss sweetness and a light sparkle. A definite cut above bog-standard Spanish fizz, but ultimately not very interesting. I entertained higher hopes for Ambar 1900, a self-described "pale ale". But it's just more fizz, really, with the vague sugariness and distant hops of a cheap lager.

Madrid has two brewpubs, and I tried to follow Boak's advice here to hit Magister first then settle in Naturbier after. But my timing was out, as usual, and only Naturbier was open. It's a large pub by Madrid standards, with the German-made copper brew kit down the back. The beer is unadventurous fare: Naturbier Rubia is a slightly hazy blonde with no nose but quite an interesting mild flavour of grapes and peaches, followed by a dry and grainy finish. I found it quaffable; Mrs Beer Nut deemed it musty and declared it undrinkable. The Tostada is a light red-brown colour, caramelly with a refreshing tannic character. There's definitely some nitro in the gas mix here, giving Irish-red-like attributes, though with much more toffee on the nose and a pronounced hop spice. Decent beers, this pair, if unexciting.

Across the square from Naturbier is Magister, and of course we visited when it finally opened. Boak had a nasty experience with the staff here, as did Gazza Prescott, so I was on full alert when we went in. They make much of their free tapas, but rather than the more fun approach of other bars where they just throw you a plate of whatever's handy, in Magister you order from a blackboard listing ten available freebies. Tapas for the picky eater: it just doesn't sit well with me.

Once again there's a Rubia -- clearer than Naturbier's offering though with a worrying vinegar aroma. None of that in the flavour, thankfully. It's smooth and full-bodied, a bit like a Märzen with a touch of juicy fruit sweetness. The Tostada is also quite hefty, with warming butterscotch notes and a dry finish. The third beer on the menu was Autor, a red-gold beer where the vinegar smell comes back and this time follows through to the taste. It's sharply bitter in a classy way, like a fine balsamic, but it's a failure as a beer.

There are of course plenty of quality drinking options in Madrid away from the beer. No trip is complete without a visit to La Venencia -- a living fossil of a bar with no taps, no brands, nothing except six types of sherry stored in casks, bottled in-house, cooled in a tub of water behind the counter and served at daftly low prices. There's also the cider, from Asturia, available in specialist cider bars dotted around town, with the best being Casa Mingo -- halfway between Principe Pio station and Goya's grave -- where it accompanies their magnificent cider-basted chicken. Cheers to Derek for the recommendation on that one.

And thankfully the Spanish don't limit their beer-drinking to native brews. Many of the bars show a connection to other, more beery, countries like Germany and Belgium. The latter has even inspired a locally-made abbey beer: Heineken's Legado de Yuste, named for the Spanish monastery where Emperor Charles V spent his retirement (this, if my history serves me, was after many years of squabbling with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers). Yuste is an attractive dark red hue and is packed with huge slabs of toffee flavours. It's rather one-dimensional though, offering nothing past that initial caramel sweetness. A bit sickly perhaps, but nice for the one, and rather better than a lot of what's served in the pubs of Madrid.

More on the genuine stuff in the next post.

Med-iocre

Just back from the Catalan capital, where the beer roost is ruled by Damm, who have a large brewing facility near the airport. Estrella Damm is their plain red-label lager which has the malty weight typical of the region, and which I most associate with San Miguel, also made in Barcelona. Confusingly there's also Estrella Galicia which is made by Hijos De Rivera in La Coruña and tastes exactly the same. San Miguel themselves now make a German-style pilsner called 1516 which is lighter than ordinary San Miguel, being 4.2%. It's a bright golden colour, instead of the brown-gold hue of their basic lager and is sweeter and generally more German tasting. Lastly for the big guys, Moritz is another lager native to Barcelona. This is my favourite of the common lagers available -- a full 5.4% but very light, soft and fluffy. There's a slight bitter aftertaste, though not much else by way of flavour, but the texture makes up for that. If it's hot and you're sinking cold ones, go for the Moritz.

I was last in Barcelona a bit over four years ago and while there I visited La Cervesera Artesana, a pleasant little brewpub up in the Eixample. It was Saturday night but the place was deserted. I remember thinking "Bless them, it's a nice idea, but it looks like it's just not going to last in this town." I fully expected the place to close soon after. So I was very surprised when I did my research for this trip to find not only was it still there, but it now has a web site. I went along yesterday afternoon to sample the wares, finding it drinkerless once again. The most surprising thing is that, while everything is brewed in-house in full sight of the punters, all the brews are nitro kegged. There can't be many microbreweries who do this (for obvious reasons) and it's very strange to get a pint of local brew with three inches of tight foam at the top -- though it did prove useful when some of the local six-legged wildlife took an interest in my beer.

I had time for two "pints", each containing about 400ml of actual liquid. The Iberian Pale Ale bears some passing resemblance to real IPA, but is served totally cold and, coupled with the nitro head, is more reminiscent of Kilkenny or Caffrey's or one of that sort. It's pretty refreshing though, if you're after that cold lager experience with just a smidge more hops to it. Their Iberian Stout is an altogether better proposition, though again nitro-headed and served at arctic temperatures. I reckon they borrowed the Small Brewers' Guide to Good Stout from the local library (in Catalan, of course) because this has a smooth sweetness up front and a dry finish: almost everything a good basic stout should be.

La Cervesera Artesana is the reason my second-rate brewpub index is headed "Top Marks For Effort": it's not terribly impressive as a pub, their beer isn't brilliant, but by God they're trying and they're fiercely proud of what they do. That sort of dedication deserves credit.

Down near where Barcelona meets the Mediterranean is Cerveceria El Vaso De Oro -- a tiny neighboorhood café consisting of a long bar, some stools and very little else: the sort of joint for which the term "watering hole" was coined. It was jam-packed with locals being served platefuls of amazing food from an open kitchen and tall glasses of Rubia, the house märzen. Once again it's typically malty, though sweet and fairly flat. The result is something smooth, easy-drinking but chock full of flavour. Some more choice would be nice, but it's really not that sort of place and I respect that. Thanks, finally, to European Beer Guide without which I'd never have found the place.

Barcelona's beer may indeed be quite mediocre, but I had a great time finding that out.