Ambiguous amphibian

Remember that post I wrote from Paris a couple of weeks ago? The one about how great The Frog & Rosbif is and how their ale is an oasis of beery goodness in an otherwise poorly-served city? Well, a few days later we went over to one of the other branches of the chain, the Frog & Princess. True to my word I went straight for a pint of Inseine and... bleurrrgh! A bad infection had caught this one and given it an unmerciful blast of TCP/sticking plasters. But these things happen with cask beer in small breweries; they can be forgiven. I moved to the other previous favourite, Natural Blonde. Oh dear. Diacetyl. Not just any diacetyl, but a pint of blonde ale that tasted like a pound of lightly caramelised butter had simply been melted into the glass: greasy, cloying and awful. Mrs Beer Nut watched my growing horror over a perfectly acceptable pint of Maison Blanche, so that's what I finished with.

Oblivious suggested that the Frog & Princess may be an extract brewpub. It would make sense, I guess, when there are five outlets in one city for all the difficult work to be carried out at one of them (or elsewhere altogether) and the finished beers assembled on site. It could also be what led to such a terrible dereliction of quality control -- whomever released those beers to the public cannot possibly have cared about how the finished product tasted.

Anyway, that's my arse covered if anyone else goes to a Frog pub on my recommendation and finds the beer awful. On to the rest of Paris.

Aside from the Frogs, the city's only other brewpub is O'Neil, just round the corner from the Frog & Princess as it happens, in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. It's not an Irish theme bar, despite the name, going instead for more of an American cocktail bar vibe -- dark wood and mood lighting. The brewkit is out in front and is in active use. What I hadn't known until I read the smallprint on the menu is that it's a member of the 3 Brasseurs chain, though not branded as such. All three beers invoked my memory of my last 3 Brasseurs visit, four years ago near Calais: they all taste powerfully of fish. I'm sure this isn't what Reuben meant recently when he noted that the 3 Brasseurs beers all taste the same, but for me it was fish market all the way and little else to show.

L'Ambrée is lightly perfumed and golden-amber; the seasonal Bock is heavily estered with pear drops in the mix; and the Brune is dry, caramelly, rather light for 6.3% ABV and tastes more intensely of fish than the other two, which is a lot. If you don't make it to O'Neil next time you're in Paris, I wouldn't worry unduly.

Much better beer was to be had following Knut Albert's recommendation of Au Trappiste at Châtelet. Not wishing to go madly ticking among the dozens of taps and bottles, I decided I wanted something reliable and nice. Draft Bécasse Gueuze did the job: a lovely big tartly refreshing pint of it. It was Mrs Beer Nut who went looking for the exotic, and picked L'Angelus, a strong French blonde ale from the far north-east. It's lovely when cold: spicy and perfumed like a good tripel, but it does get a bit sticky as it warmed. A pint of it may have seemed like a good idea on a hot Paris afternoon, but you really want to neck it quick for full refreshment value.

And that, in seven blog posts, is what I did on my summer holidays.

A la recherche du bières perdu

The timing of this month's Session -- titled "A Special Beer, A Special Place" -- fortuitously has me writing it from the site of one of my earliest international beer-chasing locations. It was in the early days of the year 2000 that I happened across The Frog & Rosbif English-themed microbrewery in Paris. I recall being thoroughly delighted by the whole experience and was straight back again when we visited Paris next, two years later.

My opinions on beer have moved a long way since 2002, but the Frog & Rosbif has always remained there on a pedestal in my memory, despite my having no recollection whatsoever of how the beer tastes. But this week I'm in Paris, and it was time to find out if The Frog & Rosbif is still deserving of its special status.

It still looks the same: big-windowed and open-floored in the English style, with the brewery in the basement. The beer line-up remains as puntastic as ever, though gone (mostly) is the cartoon art in favour of more stylish fonts for the five keg beers, plus a very fancy swan-neck dispenser for the cask.

Maison Blanche wasn't here the last time. It's an orange witbier, served rather incongruously with a lemon slice wedged on the edge of the nonic. There's a lovely orange-pith nose, but that doesn't hang around in the flavour which is a little bit citric, but otherwise rather hollow and watery. Mrs Beer Nut liked it, but it just didn't do it for me. At the opposite end of the colour scale is Dark de Triomphe, definitely one I've had before. It's a decent attempt at a nitro stout -- thick ("oncteuse" proclaims the tasting notes) and roasty with overtones of damsons. Only a little bit of a vinegary bite on the finish compromises it.

I had much better luck with Inseine, from the cask: a pale orange bitter with a bit of cloud. A purist would immediately protest at the preposterously low temperature it was served at, but sod 'em: yesterday afternoon was a hot and sticky one in the City of Lights and this hit the spot beautifully. There was certainly no masking of the marmaladey hops (Goldings?), given only token support from the malt. It looked like the pub sold more of this than anything else, and I'm not really surprised. Ginger Twist looked very similar next to it, but is a different beast altogether. It was a sudden jolt back to fizzy keg, and while there's a pleasant ginger biscuit character to it, there's not a whole lot else. Easy drinking and refreshing is what they're going for, I suppose, but I can't help but apply another "watery" warning sticker.

Round three finishes the house beers. I had a Frog Natural Blonde -- the pub's answer to lager, though far cloudier than any Kronenbourg drinker would accept. It's crisp and fruity, and one of the few beers that can get away with lightness without seeming thin. I get mandarins and bubblegum, with a little bit of chalkiness on the end. I like it. Mrs Beer Nut put dibs on Paris Lytic, a nitro red ale weighing in at 5.2% ABV. Malt vinegar all the way, I'm afraid. She's welcome to it.

So, with a definite mixed bag of beers, is The Frog & Rosbif still a special place for me? I'm going to say yes. The atmosphere is properly pubby in a way that you generally just don't get in Paris. It comes at a high price -- €6.50 a pint normal hours, €5 early evening -- but for the novelty of an English pub it's worth it (unless you live in England, of course, in which case disregard all of the above). I'll be back for the Inseine and Natural Blonde on any subsequent trips to Paris, now that I have a record of how they taste.