Urban sprawl

Florida brewer Cigar City provides the beers today, and a lot of them at that, across a happily diverse range of styles.

On the lighter end, we have Paloma Gose at 4.2% ABV. This differs from the classic Leipzig recipe by dropping the coriander and, in line with modern craft takes, adding fruit -- grapefruit and lime in this case. It's a hazy orange shade in the glass, with not even a suggestion of a head on pouring. The aroma is very soft-drink-like, a Liltish citrus-meets-sugar effect. You get the soft and briny texture of a real gose, and a salt dryness that helps offset the sodapop sweetness, though only a little. This is very Lilt-tasting, leaning towards syrupy in the foretaste before a super quick finish. Of course it's meant to be thirst-quenching, and it is, but as with sugary soft drinks, the days when I could neck a few in sequence are long gone. I appreciated the childhood charm of this one but I couldn't make a habit of drinking it.

There's more fruit and more salt in Citrus Siesta, though the brewery is calling this one a golden ale. It's not golden, more a coppery amber colour, and still modest in strength at 4.5% ABV. Outdoor summer drinking is still the use-case, I guess. It smells nicely fresh and zesty, with the orange coming through strongest. Perhaps the lime would show itself on tasting. It does, but only a little: it's that concentrated, almost herbal lime-peel effect, and then merely an echo of it. The rest is very plain: a little orange cordial in the finish, but no flavour contribution from the salt, malt or hops. The texture is quite nice -- it's big-bodied and satisfying to quaff, with a honeyish feel even if the flavour isn't there. That wasn't enough to endear it to me, however. When you insist on using novelty ingredients they need to make themselves felt more than they do here.

Invasion is called a "tropical pale ale" but this one doesn't have any daft ingredients, unless you count Motueka, Galaxy, Simcoe, Pacifica and Amarillo, all of whom sound perfectly reasonable to me. A hazy orange in the glass, it smells funky and dank, with heady aromas of sandalwood and incense. The flavour is sweeter. That spicy wood thing is still there, but it's joined by a hard grapefruit bitterness and a lighter fruit zest set on a honey and biscuit malt base. That sounds busy but the texture is light so it gets away with all of it without becoming difficult. It's possible to enjoy this on the Sierra Nevada level as a tasty resinous bitter American pale ale, but it has a fun extra dimension as well that I really enjoyed.

The sole dark beer in today's set is Cubano-Style Espresso, and although it's a brown ale it's very dark indeed, almost but not quite black. The lack of a head wouldn't qualify it for porter or stout status and the rich coffee aroma certainly says it's a brown ale. It looks thin but it's not, thanks to the inclusion of lactose which, in conjunction with cacao and vanilla, gives it a milk chocolate foretaste on a creamy mouthfeel. That's nicely balanced by the coffee, which is strong and heavily roasted, bringing a grown-up bitterness to an otherwise candyshopped beer. The seesaw of sticky sweet chocolate and clean dry coffee is rather enjoyable. This is another beer with an understated complexity. It's only 5.5% ABV but is deliciously full and warming. One to come back to in winter, perhaps.

The upper echelons start with Tocobaga, a 7.2% ABV red IPA. It's not my favourite beer style and it looks downright ugly in the glass: a swampy red-brown with some disturbingly big floaty bits suspended through it. The aroma is much more attractive: Citra bringing a fresh and zesty kick, backed by a little toffee sweetness. Dirty look vs clean aroma: who wins? The look, unfortunately. There's an immediate grittiness on the first sip, accompanied by a dreggy yeast bite. The hops are in rapid pursuit, however, bringing an astringent lime-rind bitterness, with a fun twist of pink peppercorn. It goes a little grassy towards the end, suggesting dry hopping that's gone on too long, and that's joined by a tannic rasp indicating that the mash too was not quite right. After the poise of the previous beers, it's weird that this one is so rough and amateurish. It's not unpleasant: big hops and big malt mean a good time is had, but at the same time it's strangely blurry round the edges which I would not have expected from a tight ship like Cigar City. Moving on...

Space Pope is our finisher: always good to see a Futurama reference in a beer name. It's the same strength as the last one but looks much happier: a bright amber gold. Our hops are Mosaic, Citra, Galaxy and CTZ, which hop-doctor Google tells me is a blend of Columbus, Tomahawk and Zeus. All of that gives us a very pleasant mix of the fruity and the bitter. Both aroma and flavour have the classic pithy grapefruit kick we all come to American IPA for, but with a lighter side of tangerine and mango, all of it sprinkled with resinous weedy fairy dust. It's very obvious that this has been assembled in the same house as Jai Alai, in that it offers a very similar approachable punchiness. It's an excellent expression of the classic American IPA style, or "west coast" as we're now obliged to describe it, even though that's very much not where it's from.

They're a decent bunch, in general, with just one out-of-character misstep among the six. As usual I'll give a particular endorsement to the darkest one and request more along those lines in the next shipment from Tampa.

Tampa tantrum

The beers from Cigar City have been packing the off licences of late. It has taken me a while to catch up with what's available but here's what's in the mix so far.

We start with a brand extension since that seems very much in vogue among the American breweries we get over here. Jai Low is a session-strength variant of the Cigar City flagship Jai Alai. It's an even 4% ABV and a clear amber-gold, though worryingly short of head. Jai Alai's iconic punchy bitterness is well represented: right from the start it's pithy and waxy. In something of this strength, that tends to be a recipe for harsh thinness, but this is nicely full-bodied and provides sufficient malt balance for those hyperactive hops. I've had a few of these American 4%-ers and this is the first not to taste compromised. I was sceptical about the Jai Alai associations, but it's worthy of the tie.

Margarita Gose immediately caught my eye. I like a gose and I like a margarita. It's meant to be a bright summer drinker, at just 4.2% ABV, and I caught it just before winter closed in fully. It looked a bit sad in the glass, to be honest: a hazy shade of dull orange with the head disappearing in the first couple of minutes. Salt and herbs is the first hit I got from a huff of the aroma, then the promise of tangy, oily, limes. It's surprisingly flat, with only the merest tingle of carbonation. Combined with a light texture, that made it seem a little lifeless. There's the briny tang and a smidge of citrus bitterness in the flavour, but that's all you really get. I was afraid this would be a cloying alcopop combination, and it's not, it's a real beer, but I found it less engaging than I expected. Refreshing, sure, but sailing close to the point where that means bland.

"Ale brewed with orange lime and salt" is the strapline for After Sesh, and I wonder if it was designed as a gose too, but they couldn't bring themselves to call it that. It's also orange in colour, and the head is lasting this time. 4.5% means just a slight increase in ABV. The aroma doesn't have much to say, other than a mild waft of oily oranges. The mouthfeel is decently thick, much more so than the previous, and I can taste the malt. I can just about taste the hops, but nothing that says real orange or salt. This is another very plain affair, inoffensive and quaffable like many an Irish red ale or English red-brown bitter, especially in their fizzy canned forms. I would expect to get this from a discount supermarket in a brightly-coloured can from an unspecified brewery. It tastes a bit cheap and definitely doesn't deliver on the promise of the description.

We move on to a "Citra Pale Ale" next: Guayabera. Funny how that hop in particular tends to get this special billing. This is a deep orange colour and 5.5% ABV. The aroma certainly says Citra: fresh and zesty lime. The mouthfeel is nicely full and this provides ample legroom for the flavour hops. Zesty again, not skimping on the bitterness, but showing a certain nuance as well: it's a pie or a pastry rather than a mean raw lime. This effect is heightened by the malt base which adds a hint of toffee to the background, a little like the American pale ales of yore. A hint of green onion is the only bum note I found, and it's well concealed by the bittering. While not socks-knocked-off amazing, this is well put together: punchy yet approachable, and enjoyable throughout.

"Belgian-Style White Ale" is a peculiarly awkward American construction. Is it a Blue Moon thing? Cigar City's is called Florida Cracker and is 5.5% ABV. It's surprisingly clear, but that's OK, and the fluffy white head is pleasingly persistent. The aroma is quite herbal: I got sage and cardamom although plain old coriander and orange peel is all that's listed. Shows what I know. It's very dry to begin with, all crunchy grain and citronella oil. From there there's a more nuanced lemon candy and more of that wintery resinous herb I found in the aroma. And that's it. Overall this is quite a severe sort of witbier, and maybe it's the filtration that has removed the usual smooth and fluffy edges. While not bad, I don't really see the point of it -- Cigar City aren't bringing any worthwhile innovations to the style with this.

From cod-Belgium to ersatz-England: would they do any better with a brown ale? Maduro is also 5.5% ABV and a lovely clear garnet colour. The aroma doesn't have much to say. The flavour... is understated, in a good way. It's not bland, and definitely not thin, but it takes a moment for the taste to unfold properly. Burnt caramel is first through, followed swiftly by bitter liquorice, milk chocolate, very black tea, and sticky molasses. A truly great brown ale would have a dusting of meadow flowers on top, but this doesn't, not venturing far from the standard roasted-malt profile, and that's fine by me. You can sip this, explore it, analyse it, but it works just as well as a relaxing wintertime drinking beer. It tastes authentically English to me, and we don't get many like this in these parts. I award it extra points for bringing something a bit different to the scene.

Full-strength IPA is inevitable, of course, and here we have the 6.5% ABV Fancy Papers, a (slightly) hazy example. It smells perfumed rather than juicy, and there's a hint of the hop-studded toffee that I associate with American IPAs of the old school. The flavour is more tropical, but in quite a cloying, fruit-concentrate way. I get pineapple and coconut, intensely so, like some sort of pre-mixed piña colada. It's not exactly unpleasant, but it's very strange: far from an old-fashioned bitter IPA but definitely not anything like the modern sweet sort. I guess it's its own thing, then, and fair play to it. Luckily there's just enough of a candied-lemon bitterness to make it palatable, and a dry note of acidity on the finish to prevent the alcopop taste turning cloying. I can imagine sipping this while gazing across the azure waters of the Gulf of Mexico, which is probably all any Cigar City beer is meant to do. Job done.

"unpredictable... nearly criminal... world's worst superhero": weird way to show local pride, there, CC. Here's Florida Man, a double IPA of 8.5% ABV to round out this selection. It's another translucent pale orange fellow. The aroma is juicy but on the cusp of resinous -- I don't know if mandarin oil is a thing, but if it is it probably smells like this. That juiciness combines with the big malt to create a pleasing tangerine sweetness. There's a suggestion of caramel or milk chocolate but really the hops are in charge, as they should be. And despite 80 purported IBUs that hopping is gentle, subtle even, bringing the flavour without any overdone bittering. Nor is it boozy or difficult to drink, squeaking into the double IPA style category to my palate, but only just. As an old man of simple tastes it suited me perfectly; anyone looking for something as supposedly crazy as its namesake might feel let down.

Once upon a time, Cigar City was one of the American breweries spoken of in hushed tones this side of the Atlantic. I don't know whether they switched to more middle-of-the-road offerings since, or if the market caught up with them. Either way, I was a little surprised by how few big wows I got here. I'd buy that brown ale again, mind.

Thorny thorny thorny

Three beer beers from Derbyshire's Thornbridge today. The brewery is probably tired by now of being told that they said they'd never can their beer and then they canned their beer. My first experience of metal-clad Thornbridge came, unexpectedly, via Tesco in Portadown. Both of these are available in Dublin now too, however.

Florida Weisse attracted my attention with the words "bracingly tart" on the blurb. This is a raspberry Berliner weisse of 4.5% ABV and it's certainly bracingly pink, its rosé head quickly crackling away to nothing. It tastes... authentic, in that it tastes like the pre-raspberried Berliner Kindl Weisse: artificially sweet, like candy or ice cream sauce with a very simplistic yoghurt sourness in the background. I guess the name is meant to suggest frivolous summer fun, which this does offer, but I was hoping for something more punchy, more interesting.

From the same shelf came Thornbridge's "Vermont Session IPA", named with a certain literalness Green Mountain and a mere 4.3% ABV. It's appropriately hazy topped by a pile of white foam this time. The flavour is odd. There's orangey juice, an almost margarita-like lime bitterness and then a very strange twang in the finish which begins as fried onion but grows more intense, turning to burnt plastic and acrid smoke. This last part really takes the shine off what should be a jolly and easy-going pale ale. I don't know if it's all down to the intense hops or if something more nefarious has happened, or if it's just me. Anyway, I kept wanting this to be softer and fruitier and it let me down all the way through.

Collaboration beers are ten-a-penny these days (not literally; they're often very expensive) but it's relatively unusual to see two breweries combine the recipes, and names, of their flagship beers. That's what we have here with Jai JAI from Cigar City and Thornbridge, their Jai Alai and Jaipur respectively. The ABV is exactly half way between the two at 6.7% and it's a clear golden colour, the first sign that Jaipur is the dominant partner. I get Jaipur's waxy green dryness in the aroma too. The flavour definitely has two sides: chalk and asparagus at the front, turning sharp and lime-like at the end; and also a sweet lemonade and Juicy Fruit gum sugariness running all the way through. Balance is preserved, and a smooth body ensures it's easy drinking. There's nothing special or different or outré about this collaboration, but no harm. It's a very tasty fruit-forward American-style IPA, refreshing, quenching and satisfying with no novelty factor at all. A real best-of-both-worlds job.

And then a lovely mixed box of Thornbridge bottles came my way as a Christmas gift. There were three new ticks in there, including Melba, a peach-infused IPA. It poured clear and headless, smelling powerfully of peachy syrup and tasting of it too. The texture is light to the point of thinness, which does at least mean it's easy drinking and doesn't get cloying. There's no real indication that it's an IPA, however. Pour peach cordial into vodka, prosecco, fizzy water, and you'll get the same effect. This is quite pleasant drinking but it doesn't particularly inspire or impress me. I'd file it along side those Lindeman's fruit concoctions, and Pêcheresse in particular.

I hoped for better crack from Crackendale, at the same strength and described on the label as a Citra pale ale. Turns out it's very pale indeed, and slightly hazy with it. It suffers a little from the same lack of substance as Melba, but again that serves to help the drinkability. There's a gently spritzy carbonation, propelling a light lime and pine flavour, with some bitter herbal notes tailing behind. I was hoping for a little more punch; maybe some sticky hop resins, but instead it goes for the lighter, more accessible aspect of American C-hops, and I can't fault it for that. I'm guessing this works better as a cask beer than bottled, but what I got was a very passable refresher.

Last up is Coco Cocoa, in the popular style of chocolate and coconut porter. Coconut is all the aroma has to offer, in a pleasingly bitter format. The flavour is mellower, presenting moist and chewy coconut flesh, a subtle dry roast and some sweet milk chocolate, but not too much. It's very well balanced overall, picking the best from its novelty elements without overusing them. This is another I could see working very well by the pint, especially with the ABV at just 5.5%.

So, on the balance of this lot, Thornbridge's best beers are still the bottled ones? Maybe this guy was right.

Celebrate!

As I mentioned last week, I managed to sneak in a quick north London pub crawl on my last visit to England. From that I brought away a bottle of Cigar City's Jai Alai IPA. This Florida brewery has been top of my must-try list for a while so I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to grab one of theirs while I could.

I opened the bottle on Christmas morning. Foolishly I'd crammed it into the over-laden fridge sideways, not suspecting bottle-conditioning, so what I got was a rather murky amber affair. First impressions were of a sweet and fruity beer, with that orange-flavoured hard candy effect. As it warmed, however, the full 7.5% ABV came into play and it turned much more full-bodied with a bigger, more complex flavour. There's a burn from both the bitter but not harsh hops and the alcoholic heat. Not a show-stopper, but a perfectly good beer to start the day with.

A week later I had my first beer of 2013 in an Amsterdam hotel room. I'd picked it up the previous day from the shelves in Bierkoning. It came from Pretty Things in Massachusetts: Once Upon A Time 1838 X. As the name suggests, it's an historical recreation of a nineteenth century mild from a Barclay Perkins recipe supplied, obviously, by Ron Pattinson. You can read his account of drinking it here.

I very carefully kept this one upright, but it still tasted quite dreggy to me, a hazy yellow-orange with lots of fizz streaming upwards through the murk. And yet the texture remains smooth, with no significant amount of foam forming. The flavour is sharply bitter to the point of being saison-like with loads of lemon rind and grapefruit. There are some lighter fruit notes behind this: some peach or similar soft stonefruit as well as a blast of heat from the 7.4% ABV. Overall, between the citrus and the alcohol, this beer tasted very modern, and I suppose that's the point.

More from my quick stay in the Netherlands next week.