Century city

Today's beer came courtesy of Eoghan Walsh, author of the Brussels Beer City blog and was created to accompany his book of the same name, on the history of brewing in the Belgian capital. It's that most Belgian of styles, a Scotch ale, created at Brussels Beer Project in the heart of the city, following the best estimation of what these were like a century ago. Sctch 1920 is the appointed name.

As a 21st century sort of bloke I expect Scotch ale to be darkish, but this is quite a pale amber, mostly clear with just the faintest haze. No immediate esters feature in the aroma: it smells quite plain, just slightly sweet, and that's backed up in the syrupy texture. Par for the course at 8.8% ABV. Surprise number one is the bitterness: a serious waxy kick, somewhere in the same zone as a north-German bock or a north-English bitter. This doesn't hang around, however, giving way presently to floral honey (an ingredient) and a little of that hard orange-flavoured travel sweet found in tripel, a beer style which is arguably a descendent of this one. A slightly oily herbal note -- marjoram and dill -- finishes it with a bonus balancing bitterness.

I can see the relationship between this and modern Belgian tramp-brews like Gordon Finest, but there's definitely an extra nuance, which I'm taking as hop-derived. Interestingly, they went with Belgian Groene Bel hops rather than a more typical English variety. This is a solid, old-fashioned, heavy-bodied sipper. Unlike with many a candy-infused modern Belgian beer, you know when you've had a drink when you've had one of these. Thanks to Eoghan for letting me try it.

Pride goeth before eff-all

I'm heading off this afternoon on the first of a couple of trips to Sunny Islands with Bad Beer. To steel myself for a long week of weak lager, I decided I needed a big English ale to send me off, and picked Fuller's Golden Pride, an 8.5% ABV thumper from the guys in west London.

While pouring the red-gold ale it was necessary to coax a head onto it, and it didn't really last. This, coupled with the sweet and malty aroma, made me afraid it might be another special-brew-in-disguise like the Gordon Finest I suffered through recently. My mind was put at rest with the first sip, however. It's certainly full of sugary malt, but there's loads more as well: caramel, smoke and spices of the sort I normally associate with much darker brews. With all of that going on it comes close to being cloying and difficult, but does manage to avoid it. One of these is enough in a session, but it's an enjoyable one.

Right. I am now fortified for what comes next. Reports on just how bad the situation is will follow. Knut tells me I'll be able to get some Russian beers. Better to travel with hope, eh?

Last refuge of the scoundrel

I like to know where my beer comes from. It makes no difference to how it tastes, but it adds to the educational experience of drinking beers from around the world: this is how it's done in that place. I'm slightly bemused, then, by the label on my bottle of William Wallace Ale from the Traditional Scottish Ales company, dedicated to the eponymous Scottish nobleman, and offering us a place of origin no more precise than "Scotland" and then a postcode. I can only speculate as to why they'd prefer people didn't know it's made just outside Falkirk (I assume, unless it's contract brewed elsewhere), but there you have it. Nothing like pride in where you come from...

William Wallace is in the 80/- style, though bears little resemblance to the kegged heavies I drank while living in Scotland some years ago. It has the characteristic lovely dark red colour, but is quite lightly carbonated making for a full-bodied yet easily drinkable texture. The taste is dominated by big sweet caramel flavours with just a hint of a tang from the hops. Fairly simple, quaffable and satisfying.

And from a genuine Scot, to a fake one. Martin's of Belgium have been churning out their "Scotch ales" under the Gordon label for years, and I'm not adverse to those I've tried over in the low countries, even if it has been quite a while since my last one. Until it arrived in Ireland recently, I had never seen Gordon Finest Gold before: a 10% ABV monster in an innocent green bottle with the only twist-off cap I've ever seen on a European beer.

It pours a red gold colour and is another beer lacking much by way of carbonation: a spotty, uneven thin white skim sits on the surface for the duration. Definite waft of malt on the nose. That pale sugary malt comes through in the flavour in a big way: this is powerfully sweet to the point of sickliness and really quite difficult to drink. With most of the Gordon range you get a similar strength but it comes with dark and smoky caramel flavours to create an enjoyable sipping experience. This beer is just plain hard work for not much reward.

And, though up-front about its tartan fakery, it won't even tell us where it comes from either: "Brewed in Benelux" is far as it goes. Can't seem to find that place on a map.