Sunday mass

Go to the Inn on any Friday night
And listen to them while they're getting tight
At the expense of him who stands them drinks,
The Mass-Observer with the Hillman Minx.
-- John Betjeman, The Dear Old Village (1954)

I don't have a Hillman Minx, or money to buy pints for the locals. Just a notepad and a set of instructions from this month's Session taskmasters Boak and Bailey. And I figured Friday night would be a terrible time to do this anywhere but a brightly-lit suburban pub where there's probably nothing I want to drink. Hell with that.

Early doors on a Sunday is the best time to be in the pub, for any number of reasons. On this particular Sunday I crossed town to visit WJ Kavanagh's, partly out of guilt because I hadn't been to this fine establishment in far too long, and it was also promising some new beers.

It was around 1pm when I walked in and my first shout was Summer Days, a new Session IPA from Eight Degrees and one which immediately invites parallels with their excellent Grand Stretch from last year. This one is paler, for one thing, hazy too and with a certain amount of yeast fluff in the taste, I thought. Otherwise, however, there's a big tangerine centre, edged with biting grapefruit. After a longish cycle on a warm day it was fantastically refreshing when cold but does take a turn for the watery as it warms. I don't think it's as good as Grand Stretch and it's mainly the big bitterness that wasn't to my taste. Though the €6 price tag also went a long way to reduce its sessionability.

With that done, it was down to work.

• How many people are drinking?

A rough count of the chairs suggested that Kavanagh's seats about 150: it's not a small place and, as is often the case with Dublin pubs, is made up of several premises knocked together over the years -- an inevitable side-effect of the fixed number of pub licences. For a publican in search of more trade, expanding your bar is much more cost effective than opening a new one.

However, all the tables were empty when I arrived and there was just one other punter at the bar -- hi Deb! In total, 15 souls were present during the course of the study. A group of three mature visitors to Dublin had a rendez-vous with a local friend who was their guide for the day. They were in for food and a couple of drinks before going off to do some tourism.

Next in were a young couple and their baby in a pram, meeting up with two childless friends of the same age. The atmosphere at their table had the feel of a regular Sunday catch-up. 

Shortly after they settled in, two well-to-do early-middle-age Dubs sauntered in in fancy hiking gear, designer sunglasses perched on their crowns. They had plainly never been here before and needed to know if food was available before they took to a table to peruse the menus over pints of water.

Of the same age and social class were an American couple who came in next and sat along the bar from me, but only after himself had given the taps a thorough inspection. "Oh wow! Cask!" It was almost time for them to go home to San Francisco and this was the first cask beer they'd seen in Ireland. He was definitely staying for some of that. 

Last of my subjects was an elderly gentleman wrapped up in a raincoat and walking with a stick. He seemed to be known to the staff and I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he had been drinking there since before it was a specialist beer pub.

And there was also your correspondent, representing the lone ticker demographic. Speaking of which, time for another pint.

Alligator IPA is new from Trouble Brewing. Appropriately for the name it's swampy in appearance -- a dark amber -- and with a heavy 5.7% ABV that is definitely borne out in the taste. There's a dense and warming caramel followed by a harshly bitter spiciness, but in front of all of this is that yeast: this alligator has a seriously unpleasant bite which makes it very difficult to concentrate on anything else. Cleaned up you'd have a good robust amber ale; as-is it just doesn't hold up well.

To answer the second part of the first question, ten of the fifteen people in the pub are actually drinking, though disappointingly little of it was beer.

• Which beers are on tap, and which are people actually drinking?

Positioned at the bar I was able to conduct a full census of the 23 working taps (one was out of action):
17 were from independent Irish breweries, 5 quality imports, plus Guinness.
21 of the taps were hooked up to kegs and then there were two cask handpulls -- one pouring Irish and the other an import.
The styles broke down as 4 IPAs, 4 pale ales, 4 red/amber ales, 3 stout/porters, 2 ciders, 2 lagers, 2 wheat beers then one each of saison and sour beer.

The table of four with the pram stuck to water the whole time. They left as soon as they'd finished their food. Our American cask enthusiast had the cask Irish red while his companion took the English cider on cask next to it. The group of older friends bought mixed rounds of red ale and shandy. Having finished their initial pints of water, the well-to-do couple opted for a bottle of prosecco while the elderly gent, purely to remove any sense of plausibility from my observations, partook of a single glass of rosé wine. And two pints of IPA (so far) for the beer geek.

I was a little surprised at the representation of red beers in the line-up. Sure who drinks red nowadays? But the anecdotal evidence here would strongly suggest that red ale has not yet had its day.

• What are they eating?

Everyone except the two lone men did have food. The Kavanagh's menu is big on pub classics and that's what I saw being handed out: wings, a burger, steak sandwiches, fish and chips and several salads. On Sunday the menu is enhanced by a roast dinner for €15 but there didn't seem to be any takers.

• How are they passing the time?

Not much to report here. They talked to each other. You might have thought that Sunday afternoon is a good time for newspapers, crosswords or board games in the pub, but not this place. As far as I could see, board games are not supplied at Kavanagh's.

• What are the topics of conversation?

Sitting at the bar while most everyone else was scattered around meant I didn't overhear much. From the three visitors and their local friend there was much boisterous laughter, and Team Pram was also excited, handing around photos on phones. I got more detail from the Americans along the bar and it was very much The Sort Of Things You Talk About On Holiday, taking conversational cues from the surroundings including the food options and, with Euro 2016 in the early stages, the comparative rules of ball games.

• How is the pub decorated?

WJ Kavanagh's has always seemed to have a bit of an incongruous Tex-Mex theme to me, probably traceable back to several owners ago. There are some stucco'd walls and exposed hardwood joists for that hacienda look. But turn another way and you'll find Brooklynesque bare brick and elsewhere upmarket Farrow-and-Ball style flock wallpaper. Eclectic covers it, I think. This is mostly adorned with breweriana -- signs advertising the cutting edge brands of fifteen years ago like Samuel Adams and Delirium Tremens, as well as hipper ones such as BrewDog and Naparbier. A single vintage metal tobacco ad clings to one corner, in perpetual fear of the screwdriver.

• How many TVs are there and what are they showing?

Surprisingly for a large pub just around the corner from Croke Park there are only two, modestly sized, TVs. Both are showing the football, to the interest of nobody much. 

• Are there pot plants, parrots, spittoons?

Short answer: no. But it's interesting how it has been kitted out, and I'm sure this is one of those features that are common to urban pubs but rarely noticed: everything is subtly nailed down and secured; nothing is hanging loose to be idly torn or knocked onto the floor. The pub doesn't look at all sparse, but if you wanted to trash the place you'd find it tough to gather materials for doing so.

• How many smokers are there? And vapers?

Only one: our rosé-drinking buddy went out to the small smoking terrace for a cigarette.

• Is there a dartboard, pool table or quiz machine, and are they in use?

No on all of these. Plenty of pubs have pool tables but I don't think I've ever seen a dartboard in Dublin, and certainly not in the city centre. Gambling machines are mercifully illegal.

***

I deemed the study to be completed at 3.30pm and ordered a third pint to celebrate: the Irish red on cask.

Rouge is the name, from White Gypsy brewery. Presumably it's a relative of, or a twist upon, their usual red ale Ruby. It arrived a perfect clear copper colour, unsparklered so filled pleasingly to the brim. And while the badge may say Irish red, this is most definitely an English-style brown bitter, and a bloody good one at that. It is incredibly tannic: throat-closingly dry and scouring the mouth clean of moisture. A green herbal leaf effect adds a bitterness which enhances the similarity to builder-strength stewed black tea. My pint could have been cooler, and with a touch more condition, but it was highly enjoyable in its one-dimensional way.

As I marvelled at this, four inner city Dublin yoofs sauntered in, clad in their uniform grey tracksuits. While certainly local, I suspect they were also new to the pub because the selection of taps flummoxed them. Having strolled the length of the bar, exchanged confused looks, and turned on the heels of the their Adidas, they made for the door. "Do yiz do cocktails?" said one incredulously over his shoulder, as a disparaging remark rather than a question. And then, as the door swept closed behind him, "I love the origami."

A malapropism? Or is origami the latest front in the class war? Somebody should do a study.

Curiosities

I'm aware of the risk that this blog may turn into What I Drank At 57 The Headline but, for better or worse, that's where I encounter a lot of new beers these days, and often ones that aren't even on the pub's stock list.

For example, I spent an enjoyable afternoon recently, chatting beer with fellow enthusiasts Dorothy, Simon and Andrew for a radio documentary Andrew's missus Laura is making. At the end, the guys produced a bottle of Allagash Curieux for the table. It's a looong time since I last drank any Allagash beer so I was keen to find out how they'd been getting along while my attention has been elsewhere.

In keeping with the name, it's something you don't see very often: a bourbon-aged tripel. Tripels, in this writer's opinion, are all about the freshness and spices. I was a bit sceptical as to whether wood-ageing might improve one. It started pleasantly enough with bitter yet juicy melon rind and orange pith. "Coconut" is one of the descriptors on the label and yes, I get that too. But after these initial treats from the base beer, in sweeps the blaring raw oak from the barrel, coating everything in a thick layer of whisky and vanilla. The bourbon doesn't spoil things completely but it does dirty up what I suspect is quite a decent Belgian-style beer underneath. Still, it's always nice to try something different -- thanks Laura and Andrew!

Meanwhile, proprietor Geoff has been collecting beer from all over, including this sample bottle of Celtic Warrior from Cavan-based Hyland Brewing, though the beer itself is brewed at the Craftworks brewery in Dublin. Like a lot of the pale ales coming from Irish start-ups these days, it's designed to be accessible: a sessionable 4.5% ABV, copper orange in colour and balancing a bitterness that's no more than marmalade level with a lightly sugary malt stickiness.

The recipe designer seems to have aimed for -- and succeeded at -- something inoffensive, though personally I don't see how anyone could be offended by the gorgeous hoppy high notes you find in the next-level Irish pale ales like Eight Degrees Grand Stretch, Trouble Graffiti and White Hag Little Fawn: I think I speak for the entirety of Ireland's drinking public when I say that the nation's basic pale ales should be more like these. If you're in Cavan, though, I reckon Celtic Warrior is still a lifesaver. Baby steps. For now.

To the Kingdom

Ireland got a major new addition to its beer calendar this month with the first Killarney Beerfest, staged by the experienced events organisers of the Irish National Entertainment Centre at the Gleneagle Hotel. The sun mostly shone, trade was quite brisk among the tents and the live entertainment was excellent. Saturday saw an all-star team of international judges put 81 of Ireland's microbrewed beers through a rigorous judging process, with young James Brown taking the grand prize for his Chocolate Orange Stout. But I did a bit of unofficial judging myself too...

First and foremost, Black Donkey's Buck-It comes off the naughty step. This beer really rubbed me up the wrong way back in February, but a switch from a neutral American yeast to something a little more estery has taken those pointy, musty edges off it and given it a smooth rounded fruity character. Well worth a re-visit if you were similarly unimpressed previously. The Roscommon brewery was also pouring a new one: Scythe, a 4.6% ABV... er... well I'm not sure what style category it belongs in. I suppose pale ale is a start: it's a murky orange colour and the aroma is pure peach flesh. That fresh and zippy New World hop thing extends to the flavour but it's joined there by a very Belgian yeast spice. If I recall correctly, this uses the same yeast as Black Donkey's Sheep Stealer saison so possibly could count as the same style. Either way, it's a very fine hoppy sessioner.

Sticking with them peaches for a moment, Black's of Kinsale had a new Pils on tap: slightly hazy but still properly clean-tasting and with a subtle sprinkling of peach and mandarin flavours. It's done with US hops but really put me in mind of those mouthwatering Australian varieties they have now. Overall this is a decent, but not shocking, re-imagining of quaffing lager.

From lager to stout and a second beer from County Limerick's only brewery, JJ's. Abbey Stout is a roasty one, vaguely sweet but pouring on more of the dry notes. There's not much other complexity but then at 4.2% ABV I guess there's not supposed to be.

Jack Doyle's beer is rarely seen outside its native Wexford so I was delighted to find it at the festival. Jack Doyle's Premium Stout is another straightforward one: 4.2% ABV and served on nitro. Its special move is a lovely whack of chocolate and cocoa right in the heart of the soft, smooth texture. This is plainly designed to take the big boys on and I'd certainly pick it when faced with that choice. I'm a little less convinced by Proper Order, a pale ale at the same strength. Like the stout, it's simple and drinkable with no brewing flaws, but it's much more of an Irish red than a hop-forward pale ale. Sure, it's a pale amber colour rather than red, but the light body, the toffee, and the low-impact hops all say something other than pale ale to me. But again, in a pub with nothing better, I'd be content.

Local boys Killarney Brewing also malted up their Scarlet Pimpernel IPA. It's very nearly red and decidedly sweet, justified by a pleasant buzz of orange sherbet though let down in the finish by a harsher medicinal note. Some sort of phenolic invader, perhaps? Nothing like that in the stout though. Casey Brothers is yet another easy-going nitro job, though it does make good use of its extra strength at 5% ABV: there's a creamy richness plus a mild hint of blackcurrant right on the finish.

Neighbours Torc Brewing have been a little more adventurous with their newest offerings. Torc Wheat Beer doesn't sound that off-the-wall, especially at just 4.2% ABV, but they've used Cascade and Centennial hops to add a juicy citrus bang without losing the classic bubblegum sweetness. There's a decently full body for the lower strength too. Torc Amber Ale is a tiny bit stronger but less hoppy too. If Proper Order and Scarlet Pimpernel had Irish Red qualities, this tips over into that style fully. There's a dusting of red fruit, more than a hint of toffee, and a clean mineral quality that stops it from getting too sweet. But disappointingly little by way of hops.

Two pale ales to go out on. The first is The Dreamer, a summer seasonal from O Brother and based on their regular The Fixer, with the ABV dialled down a notch to 4.3%. It's pale and hazy, the Willamette hops imparting bright floral flavours but with a more punchy playful bitterness on the end. There is a bit of a bleachy bum note spoiling things a little: I guess something this light leaves no place for such off-flavours to hide, but at least the beer's merits aren't obscured by this flaw.

My beer of the weekend, however, was the new Eight Degrees summer seasonal Grand Stretch. Created with the needs of the brewery workers in mind, this is just (again!) 4.2% ABV but jam-packed with Vic Secret hops. A grassy, resinous spice bumps up against classic New World mango and nectarine leaving no doubt that this beer is all about the delicious, refreshing, fresh hops. Yet it's not overly bitter and nor is it thin: the body is full enough to carry everything that's happening. Complex hop-forward session beers of this quality are all too rare in Ireland. It's great to meet another one.

Killarney may not be the biggest or geekiest of beer festivals in Ireland but it's one of the most enjoyable I've ever attended (living on-site for the duration may have something to do with that) and the setting amid the majestic Kerry scenery really adds spectacle to it. Keep and eye out for the announcement of next year's dates.