Block party

In August I returned to the Great British Beer Festival for the first time in ten years. I hadn't realised that it's also a full ten since I went to my local CAMRA festival in Belfast, although it hasn't taken place for a number of those. Last year it returned but I had a scheduling conflict, so I was determined to make it along this time, heading up north a day after returning from Belgium.

Gone are the days of the grandly-appointed Ulster Hall, and indeed the cavernous and draughty King's Hall. Now the venue is Banana Block, a bohemian entertainment space in the east of the city, within the same repurposed industrial complex as Boundary Brewing. Mercifully, gone too are the too-warm casks, with a properly effective stillage cooling system now in operation, and likewise no more antisocially loud live music. That made it much easier to concentrate on the beer.

The first one to catch my eye as I perused the list was Boddington's. Much has been written about AB InBev's revival of the classic Manchester bitter, now brewed at JW Lee's. Here's my chance to join the discourse. And... it's a disappointment. I never drank the classic Boddington's, only the nitrokeg version which survived into the noughties, but my understanding of this beer is that it was a) very pale, and b) very bitter. I further understood that Marble's Manchester Bitter is intended as a close recreation, and it is indeed both those things. What I received in Belfast was distinctly amber coloured and fruity flavoured, with noticeable strawberry and peach notes on a lightly tannic base. The texture is soft, not spiky. Above all, it isn't especially bitter. I mean, as a bitter it's fine, but is suspiciously close to what I remember about the JW Lees flagship. My theory is that this only works as a revival of Boddington's when it's poured beneath the distinctive canary-yellow pumpclip: that's an essential ingredient which was absent from the offer in Belfast.

I wasn't going to miss a rare opportunity to catch up with beers from Otterbank, and especially since The Magic Road took third prize in the festival competition, against two much stronger beers. It's only 4.1% ABV and is a rose-gold sour ale brewed with strawberries. There's a lot more complexity than that suggests, beginning with a technicolor aroma of peach and pineapple. There was lots of condition from the cask, meaning both aroma and flavour in spades. The sourness manifests in the latter as gooseberry with a softer touch of white grape and then a modest degree of sweet strawberry jam in the finish. It's easy drinking without being at all thin or sharp, and the multidimensional flavour makes for highly entertaining drinking. Definitely a deserving prize winner.

Otterbank also brought a session IPA called Grianán Gold, light even by the style's standards at 3.6% ABV. "Gold" suggests a paleness it doesn't have, being red again, and a little murky with it. The mouthfeel is on the thin side, which is perhaps to be expected, though it's another beer with excellent sparkling condition. I suspect there's been some wild microbial goings-on in this, whether intended or not. The aroma sparks with bonfires and gunpowder, while the flavour chooses bold peppercorns and oaky Rioja over hops. That makes it a little intense for the session, and not really an IPA, so you really need to leave questions of style fidelity aside. I still thought it was an excellent beer, however.

Top prize in the judging went to local outfit Bullhouse, collaborating with Lacada on a double IPA called Big Nellie. It immediately looked odd: an opaque pinkish shade, out of keeping for even the most deliberately murky of IPAs. Despite this, it's not in the least bit dreggy and has a superbly serious hop aroma, all citrus pith and weedy dank. The flavour goes big on juice, in the New England way: lots of jaffa orange, and then a fun hint of tropical coconut in the finish. Served on keg, it was especially cold, and I think that helps when the ABV is up at 8.4%. There was no heat or soupiness, just big hops followed by a clean finish. I'm not sure I would have ranked it higher than the third-place Otterbank, but it is fully deserving of a rosette of some sort.

I could have done better at exploring Norn Irish beers from breweries I didn't know, since the selection was superb, but my only new producer tick was Rough Brothers, their IPA. This is a clear amber colour and 5.6% ABV, drawing an immediate parallel with Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. And it does have a certain amount of that one's resinous quality, but really not enough of it. A big IPA like this needs a matching punch of hops, and this didn't deliver, being clean and simple, but very unexciting. Had it been a point or two lower in ABV I would have let it pass, but I think I was within my rights to expect more. So, yes, you can make hoppy beer in the cask format, but you have to work a lot harder at it than this.

Time for more English beers next. I like a bit of rye now and then, and it seems to have gone somewhat out of fashion, so for old time's sake I picked Yomp!, an amber rye ale from The Park Brewery in Kingston-upon-Thames. It's certainly amber: a deep and luxurious shade of red. If that was supposed to convey a malty richness, it didn't: it's only 4.1% ABV and a little watery on it. Still, they've had fun with the hops, which say nothing in the aroma but explode on the palate with colourful flourishes of rosewater and lavender. The finish is dry and thirst-quenching, but arrives annoyingly quickly. I liked the basics of what they've done here, but subtlety doesn't suit it. I'd like to try a beefed up version; one with at least some discernible rye character, for one thing.

A Green Hop pale ale from Burning Sky? Well that's not something any sane person would pass up. Gimme. This is 4.2% ABV, a pin-bright clear golden, and... well... maybe it hasn't been the best year for hops or something. There's not much aroma, only the biscuit base for something else which never arrived. In the flavour there's a certain amount of flowers and grass, making it taste more like a basic Czech lager than an English ale, with a similar sort of quick finish. It's simple and inoffensive, but I found it rather characterless. I think this is another situation where cask demands more hops, especially if they're bespoke rather than industrially farmed and processed for maximum impact. It was worth a try, though.

Old ale is another rarity, and Sussex brewery Hand had one at the festival, called Kora. This is 5.8% ABV and a proper dark teak colour; lacking head but that's part of the character. The aroma is an enticing wintery mix of dark chocolate and red wine, while the flavour features espresso, toffee and honeycomb, on an appropriately chewy texture, very much designed for slow sipping. It would have been excellent were it not for the foretaste which is highly autolytic: a savoury soy sauce effect that clashes badly with the sweeter aspects. I guess that's acceptable within the style parameters; that if you're going to make a beer old, it is going to autolyse. I think it needs cleaning up, however. Enjoyment of the finished product is far more important than the process of making it.

That's all I had time for, and it was back to the station next. Luckily, John had nipped around to Boundary for some cans before we left, and was kind enough to share them on the train.

Monkey Tennis is a hazy pale ale of 4.5% ABV. There's little here which doesn't feature in a million similar beers, starting with the garlic aroma and hint of dankness. In the flavour, there's not much, but it has body enough to carry some vanilla up front and a kick of lime bitterness on the end. The lack of plasterboard grit was a bonus, but honestly I don't think haze works well at low gravity, and needs the big silky mouthfeel to function properly.

And finally a west coast IPA called The Best Kind of Correct, though I'm not sure that 5% ABV is any kind of correct for authenticity. It is at least clear and golden, and has a wonderful fresh and leafy hop spice aroma, suggesting resinous bitterness to come. Unfortunately, it fluffs the landing, and instead of pine and grapefruit there's a massive kick of raw white onion. That's sharp and clean in its own way, but rather savoury and sweaty at the same time. Maybe this, too, needs to be a bit less Irish about its ABV and go all in for the heft. Is stronger than 5% really so much of a hard sell for a brewery like Boundary?

I will leave the day's proceedings on that question. It was a fun day out. Thanks especially to Ruth and the squad of volunteers from CAMRA NI, as well as those who came from further afield for the event. I've been hearing nothing but doom and ruin regarding CAMRA since the summer, and this event was a reminder of what it does well and why it's worth rescuing.

Supplemental

As promised on Monday, an assortment of cask ales which I found in and around the recent JD Wetherspoon beer festival, but which weren't actually part of it.

Acorn's Old Moor is where we start. This is a porter, blackest of the black, with a head of agéd ivory. It is a creature of exquisite balance, being mostly quite dry and roasty but not thin, with added coffee oils rounding it out, including the slightly fruity cherry and raisin effect that some coffees give. There's some silky dark chocolate towards the end, a streak of buttery diacetyl, and then an assertively dry finish. I can't think what more any sane adult would demand from a 4.4% ABV porter. Yorkshire has a reputation for being no-nonsense, and they could sustain that on this beer alone. Proper.

I'm very surprised I haven't had the next one before. Wainwright used to be Thwaite's, now Marstons, next: who knows? It's all gone weird in the Carlsberg-Marstons empire these days. It's a golden ale of 4.1% ABV and, as usual in any Dublin Wetherspoon, looks perfect. I was expecting plain but there's quite a bit of character here. I'm guessing it got quite a warm fermentation because there is soft fruit aplenty, the flavour brimming with apricot, lychee and particularly banana. That follows a more subtle bubblegum aroma. Bitterness is not on offer, and only a faint trace of grain-husk dryness provides any balance. While this isn't bland, it isn't very impressive either, doing the cask blonde basics but no more than that. It's not on the list of beers that Carlsberg gave the chop to last year, but I wouldn't miss it if it were...

Staying in t'North, but moving to Yorkshire, Ilkley Brewery's Lotus is next, an American style IPA of 5.9% ABV. It was sharing a bar with Thornbridge Jaipur which seemed, in the words of Sir Humphrey, courageous. Quite a dark fellow, it smelled pleasingly citric, and the initial taste had the correct kick of grapefruit and lime. It takes a rapid left turn from there, delivering crazy fruit candy and banana esters -- an extreme sort of sweetness that's quite out of keeping with the style. The finish returns it to style somewhat, with a dryly acidic rasp, but that fruity weirdness remains the defining characteristic. I liked the brash boldness of it but also found it a bit too weird to fully approve of. If you've never had it, give it a go. I'd say it's a divisive one.

Finally, Gadd's No 3 had been assigned a festival badge at The Silver Penny, though it wasn't one of the 30-beer line-up. This is a pale ale, golden and clear, brewed with Fuggles, Goldings, and "some others I don't talk about". An admission that this Kent brewery doesn't use all-Kent hops? At 5% ABV it's a bit of a strong one. That strength is well used, giving the beer a full and chewy body. Whatever about the interlopers, its English hops give it a very beery flavour: a coppery mineral bitterness, infused with fresh and crunchy green vegetables, set on a slightly sticky base of golden syrup and oatmeal cookies. It might look like a lager but it's definitely a bitter: not quite as sharp as the similarly-golden northern archetypes (Landlord, Marble), but similarly clean, despite the extra malt. This is tasty, unfussy, and very well made. There's nothing novel or innovative about the flavours; only how precisely they've all been balanced against each other. This is the sort of beer I would love to have as a local regular; I couldn't imagine ever getting bored of it.

That's your lot for now, casketeers. We return to our normal force-carbonated content later in the week.

Shropshire, lads

Christmas took me to rural Shropshire once again. The local pub is under new ownership but retains its three beer engines, one of them tied to the thoroughly decent Hobsons Twisted Spire.

The first guest beer was a new stout from a different nearby brewery, Hop & Stagger. Black Forest Stout they called it, and yes it contains cherries. In fact, I suspect that this is nothing more complicated than a basic chocolate-forward session stout into which a bucket of cherry concentrate has been dumped: it has that unsubtle syrupy taste. A flinty dark-roast dryness saves it from turning sticky, and while the two elements do blend better as it warms up, this is still a one-pint beer and no more.

Moving on, then, to Joules Old No. 6, badged as a "winter warmer" though only 4.8% ABV. It belies this with a big and rich flavour, beginning on a thick layer of chewy caramel which is then overlaid with red liquorice and throat-sweet herbs. That makes for something very sweet and very bitter at the same time, with a Victorian medicine vibe which I'm sure is exactly what they were going for. I don't think I've tasted anything much like this, yet it does fit what one might expect an old-fashioned English winter ale to be. Again, a session would be tough, but that's what the Twisted Spire tap is for.

The only other pub I visited was a very quick half at the Wetherspoon in Shrewsbury. They had Black Ice by Titanic Brewery on, and it's against my religion to pass up a black IPA when I see one. This one arrived with an off-white head, the body black but showing red around the edges. The flavour offers a fascinating mix of flowers and fruit: spicy jasmine first, followed by soft and sweet cherry and raspberry. It's still bitter enough to be properly invigorating and there's a stout-like tarry rasp which helps keep it from tasting jammy. All this is done at just 4.1% ABV too. Great work, and I hope they keep brewing it, fashion be damned.

To the bottles, then, and Hobsons has refreshed its branding, the trademark bowler hat now looking 45% more jaunty. I don't know if Shropstar pale ale is new but it was my first time trying it. This is a perfectly clear pale gold and 4% ABV. A tall head forms so I was expecting lots of fizz on the palate but it's actually quite smooth. A pinch of lemon rind suggested American hops to me, though a glance at the label tells me Hüll Melon and Mandarina Bavaria are actually responsible. An initial bitter kick leads on to bittersweet citrus, and then a fast fade-out. They've badged this as a Christmas beer, and it was refreshing after too much cheese and Other People's Unreasonably Hot Central Heating, but I think it would work better in the summer -- there's enough fruity fun in it for that.

The sister brought me a selection from Lincolnshire brewery Hopshackle. I began with the lightest of them: a golden ale called Jaramillo. There'll be Amarillo hops in this, thought I, but no: it's Citra and Mosaic. It has a rough and raw homebrew quality, manifesting as a clean gunpowder spice. The hop fruit is bright behind it, all juicy mango and tangy pomegranate. While this lacks polish, it is tasty in an amateurish sort of way. They got away with the roughness here, but I was apprehensive facing into the rest of the selection.

Hopnosis got busy with the fizzy from the get go. This is a golden ale, 5.2% ABV, and hopped with Citra and Mosaic again. Oh and hey: here's the Amarillo. There's a very pleasant sweet honey taste, plus a touch of apricot, and accompanying stickiness. I can see the beer it was meant to be; the beer it probably is on cask, but bottled, once again, there's that flinty spice of residual yeast: nice but interfering with the core flavour. I can't help thinking that even if this bottle is OK, the brewery doesn't have proper control over what's getting out there. Is that unfair?

Moving on, I poured the Humopulus carefully, to give myself a clear glassful. It's still a little hazy through the pale yellow colour, without much of an effort at head. The label boasts yet more Citra though the flavour is quite muted. There a vague lime-zest bitterness, but the sharp and flinty yeast is more prominent. It's been busy too, I'd say: the texture is thin, even for 4.3% ABV, suggesting high attenuation. There's a background sourness but I don't know whether to pin that on the fermentation or the hops. With every sip I found myself thinking how much better Citra-forward British beers like Jarl and Oakham Citra are. This isn't in the same league.

Last up from Hopshackle is Fire Belly Export, described on the label as a "Double Imperial IPA" which is a yer-da style if ever I saw one. It is 7% ABV. There's lots of sweet caramel, and a big malt warmth. This is accompanied, rather than balanced, by tropical C-hops, plus a herbal, peppery effect. Again, though, heavy-handed attenuation has thinned it, dried it and given it too much fizz. It's better than the others despite this: the high gravity fights back against the officious yeast and there's enough mellowness left behind, and sufficient body to provide a base for the hops. There's a lack of finesse, sure, but this is on the good side of the homebrew-tasting spectrum.

The next set was three from Sherbourne Ales in Bournemouth, courtesy of my niece who lives locally. First out is the bottled bitter Headlander. I didn't think there was much chance of this pouring clear, what with all the dregs clinging to the inside of the bottle, and so it proved: a hazy copper red glassful. The aroma is wholesome brown bread with a very English veg-and-metal hop tang. The two sides should blend together in the flavour but they drift further apart: a sugary-tea sweetness and quite a harsh, raw bitterness with no hop flavour nuance. It's hard work, but I was used to the clashing flavours by the half-way point and finding it quite refreshing, as a bitter ought to be. Approach with caution rather than avoid, I would say.

Sunbather red ale is not very different, in appearance and in ABV, at 4.2%. The aroma is quite understated, just a vague jam and marzipan. Flavourwise it's definitely smoother than the previous: a well-integrated cocktail of warm caramel and dark berries, with a touch of coffee-roast complexity. This is balanced by that classic English hop bitterness but this time toned down, and with some earthy veg notes in with the acidity. It fits the brown bitter category more than that of red ale, I think, though one could class it as a good example of either. Solidly traditional, and enjoyably so. The sort of English beer I never hear about on the Internet.

The strongest one to finish on: the 4.5% ABV Grockles blonde ale. This came out a bright and burnished gold, with hardly any haze at all. A honey aroma leads on to a rye and caraway savoury bitterness. It tips a little into the gastric, vomity side of the spectrum, but not excessively so, and there's enough residual honey to pull the flavour back. Again, this suits the broad bitter genre better than the style it's badged as; this time the pale, dry, sharp northern bitter, typified by these days Landlord and Marble's Manchester Bitter. The brewery has decided it's a summer beer, and presumably intends it as a lager substitute. It has far too much character for that, however. You'd be disappointed if you were expecting Stella. I wasn't disappointed, though.

A random selection from the slim pickings in a local Sainsburys: Gladeye, from Drygate. It gives us fair warning of what to expect by calling itself a "retro IPA". Copper colour: check; big crystal malt toffee: check; intense grapefruit bitterness: check and check. It really does remind me of old-school IPAs like Porterhouse Hop Head and the original Sierra Nevada IPA. A lighter hand on the crystal would have been appreciated: it's thicker and sweeter than it needs to be. I like the old-fashioned, mouth-watering, citrus poke, though. It delivers on its promise, although it's weird thinking of this sort of thing as a novelty.

The Christmas Day nightcap was Adnams Both Barrels, a barrel-aged version of their Broadside IPA, with added cherries. After six whole years in bourbon casks, it doesn't look or taste anything like Broadside, being a dark brown colour and showing lots and lots of oak flavour. Wild yeast has been busy too, giving an overall impression of a Flanders red: that tart cherry and fancy Italian vinegar effect. Though 9% ABV there's no heat and quite a thin body. Swirling it on the palate, bourbon vanilla makes an appearance, and there's burnt fruitcake and brown breadcrust in the mix as well. They don't badge it explicitly as sour, but I think they should. Fascinating stuff, both as a highly involved IPA experiment, and as a beer in its own right.

Familial duties duly conducted, it was off to the Netherlands for New Year...

What's new with you?

St. Patrick's week is upon us, the next Beer & Whiskey Festival is opening at the RDS on Wednesday, so time to catch up on some of the new Irish beers I've found around the place lately. Well, when I say "around the place" I mostly mean in 57 The Headline.

To wit: Little Warrior, a pale and sessionable number from Dublin's Postcard Brewing. Just 3.8% ABV but tastily hop-forward, offering a juicy triumvirate of mango, mandarin and watermelon. It lacks the punch found in Trouble's Grafitti but the more soft-spoken approach is its own thing. More than an American-style citrus bomb it reminded me of good pale 'n' hoppy modern English bitter, and is every bit as drinkable, even on keg. Only a slight soapy tang lets it down slightly but I found that this faded the further into my pint I went and probably wouldn't even be noticeable in a second. That's sessionability, that is.

The Headline scored a bit of a coup in securing some Donegal Dry Hop IPA recently. Aside from the blonde ale, we don't see many Donegal Brewing Company beers and especially not the keg specials done mainly for its home pub, Dicey Reilly's in Ballyshannon. Though a bright and innocent pale yellow, this has a bit of momentum behind it at 5.7% ABV. With dry-hopping I expected the aroma to be a big feature but it's not really. But what it lacks in smell it makes up for in flavour: a fantastic punchy and sharp bitterness, all fresh spinach and nettles, backed by a smooth yet light honey and golden syrup malt base. It simultaneously reminded me of invigorating north German pilsners and the sharper sort of north English bitter: Landlord, Marble Manchester Bitter or that sort. Whichever way you look at it, it's tasty stuff, classically flavoured and every bit as sessionable as the Little Warrior, despite the strength.

These days, IPAs come in colours other than gold and a couple of weeks ago The Headline staged the world premiere of Rising Sons Uprising black IPA, before it even went on tap at the Cork brewpub where it was born. It's my first time experiencing a black IPA loaded with Sorachi Ace and it certainly shows the hop off: massive coconut and a blast of grapefruit pith. Brewer Shane said he was happy with the amount of balancing roast he got into it but to be honest I couldn't taste any of that, just hops all the way, and the better for it. A certain fullness of texture is the only nod towards other types of black beer that I noticed.

A week later it was the turn of a brewery from the other end of the country to introduce a new beer: White Hag and their Red Doe red IPA. I'd grumble a bit at the style designation here as it tasted much more like an amber ale to me, albeit a particularly thick and dark one. The bitterness is quite low and a fudge-like rich sweetness is at the centre. Cascade is the main player among the hops and it's working incredibly hard, turning out dank resins and herbal spiciness of the sort I associate with the more expensive American varieties. I confess I was not wowed by this beer, however. It's decent but seems to lack the White Hag magic, typified by Little Fawn to which I immediately switched.

And being in broadly the same style, Little Fawn makes things very difficult for Max, the new "session ale" by O Brother. This is the same louche hazy gold colour and seems to be going for the same juicy-fruit middle with an edgier bitter trim. Here, though, the bitterness is dominating: a loud, waxy, lemon-skin effect that all but shouts down the fluffier nectarine and pineapple centre. It also feels unreasonably watery for something at 4.4% ABV. Could be it's another one that you need to take a bit of a run at to get properly, but it tasted to me like a recipe pitching for the light and juicy segment but missing it by overdoing the bitterness.

Finally, a slightly out-of-season pick from the taps at The Black Sheep: Beoir Chorca Duibhne's Winter Ale. This is an appropriate deep dark brown-red and even though it was served ice-cold from the keg it retained a beautiful cask-like smoothness. There's a lactic spicy sourness to the flavour, accompanied by a red fruit tang which gives it something of the air of a Belgian framboise. Behind this tartness, and becoming more prominent as the beer warms, there's a stout-like dry roastedness. The red fruit provides the aroma: redcurrant and cranberry. It's an immensely complex beer and very enjoyable sipping. I just had a half because I was waiting for another beer to come on, of which more in the next post.

Mersey treat

I was given a hotel voucher for Christmas and, after performing full due diligence on the opportunities it offered, decided that one night in Liverpool was the most economical way to make use of it. So on a sunny Saturday morning in late July, myself and herself hopped over the Irish Sea, arriving in Albert Dock in time for coffee at the Tate and a cheery stroll around the International Museum of Slavery.

A beer was in order next and we went the long way about it, taking the Mersey Ferries cruise (surprisingly good) over and around to Birkenhead, where Gallagher's Pub and Barber's is a short walk uphill from the dock. The name isn't just a gimmick either: there is a real working barbershop at the back, just beyond the bar. The pub itself is smartly maintained, perhaps unsurprising when there's a broad military theme to the décor.

Two beers from local brewery Brimstage were on, including its flagship bitter Trapper's Hat. This is leaning towards brown but still safely amber, I guess, and has an approachable 3.8% ABV. And it's properly bitter too, pushing out cleanly acidic lime marmalade notes and balancing them with crunchy wholewheat biscuit. Simple, but nicely done and I'd happily have this as my local beer. The other Brimstage offering was Oyster Catcher, a 4.4% ABV stout. It's big on coffee aroma and the texture is light, so I was expecting something quite simple here. But there are complexities lurking in the darkness. Behind the strong roasted element there's a sharper forest fruit tartness adding a beautiful extra dimension to the flavour. Again, not a multi-layered taste experience, but a damn decent drinking beer.

Just one more before we move on: Stateside Pale Ale, a 5%-er by Sheffield brewer Exit 33. And they've definitely gone for the stereotypes here: a big biting grapefruit pith and zest. One of those beers that reminds you of what actual grapefruit tastes like, not just grapefruity hops. Refreshing and dangerously drinkable at such a stonking strength. I'd better move on before things get messy.

Old Garde

Back in Liverpool, high on my list of drinking venues was The Clove Hitch, a relatively new addition to the city's entertainment district. The basement bar was full but that didn't matter as the restaurant has plenty of beer choice and we were hungry. With my scallop and chorizo starter I had a BrauKunstKeller Laguna. I'd had this IPA before, closer to its home, and wasn't impressed, but the super-heavy bitter resins worked better here as an accompaniment to meaty food than during a festival session. I also got the chance to try my first beer from Manchester's much-lauded Cloudwater Brewery. Well, sort of: Old Garde is a collaboration with south-coasters Burning Sky. It's a bière de garde, pale amber in colour and highly attenuated. And while I'm positive it tasted as the brewers intended, it just wasn't pleasant drinking, tasting off in two different ways simultaneously: a jangling tangy sourness and then the dull buzz of oxidation. Your clothes are ready now, Emperor.

For dessert, Hop Damn, a chilli black IPA by Alphabet Brewing, also based in Manchester. It's 6.1% ABV and arrived properly black with a thin head. Nothing clumsy about the aroma, just a subtle dusting of fresh green hops. On tasting there's a light vegetal bitterness as the centrepiece of the flavour, backed by smooth stouty vanilla and an increasing burnt quality as it warms. There's a beautiful sherbet effervescence to the texture as well. And the chilli? Just a very gradual peppery catch, but no silly tricks. Very well put-together, I thought.

We ended the evening in The Belvedere, a poky little joint that came recommended by ex-Brimstage brewer Mike McGuigan. At 10pm on a Saturday it was packed and a little rowdy but we managed to squeeze into a corner. Just one tickable option for me, one with a Pumpclip Parade-able tap badge: Summer Blaze by Cornish brewery Coastal. It was actually a decent beer: pale gold, a lagerish malt base and then floral, lightly perfumed, hops. Straight-forward, easy-going, inoffensive perhaps, but well-made. As the pub got increasingly chocker, its drinkability became a major plus point. Down the hatch and out we go.

On Sunday it rained, but I'd planned for that and wasn't intending to move very far during the day, though that wasn't going to prevent a decent crawl of pubs. The Philharmonic was just down the street from the hotel, so it would have been rude not to drop in for a swift pint. Liverpool Organic's 24 Carat Gold was on the pumps, and I've always enjoyed their beers in the past. This one is golden and brewed with 100% Brewer's Gold hops, so full marks on the naming there. The bitterness is very low and instead the hops impart a gentle meadowy effect, with elderflower to the fore in particular. The malt keeps its head down. For all its understatedness, I rather liked it, but then it was the day's first beer.

Down the street next to The Fly In The Loaf, a highlight of my last trip to Liverpool, though that was on a busy Friday evening. It's very different on a rainy Sunday afternoon, feeling every bit as cavernous and empty as it looks. Still, the staff were attentive and there was plenty of beer to choose from. It shares a corporate parent with Okell's, so the Manx brewery featured large. Out of sheer curiosity I took a pint of Manx Pale Ale, the lightest in the range, at 3.6% ABV. It's a weak yellow colour and has a waxy lemon flavour which I associate with northern bitters, and Marble's Manchester Bitter in particular. The citrus aroma matches this nicely and there's a crisp cereal finish. I was all excited for the first few mouthfuls but it gets boring very quickly, turning rather watery. Still, it's not really designed for considered analysis and stands up well as a session bitter.

My other half went all craft, choosing a two-thirds of Northern Monk's mocha porter, Northern Star. There's a big coffee aroma in this 5.9% ABV beer, with an added undercurrent of blackberries and damsons. It tastes very sweet, like the coffee creams which inevitably get left behind in chocolate boxes. I could tell there's a proper porter underneath it, but the coffee effect is just laid on too thickly. Two thirds would be too much for me.

Continuing down the hill and just around the corner to The Roscoe Head. This tiny traditional pub manages to squeeze three saloons into its miniscule footprint, each little bigger than a couple of phoneboxes. Trade was brisk but we found a banquette to perch on. The pub's claim to fame is as one of the Magnificent Seven: a rather grand title for the handful of premises which have featured in every edition of CAMRA's Good Beer Guide. My pint of Backyard Brewhouse Centennial IPA was well-kept, though could probably have stood to be served cooler. It's 5% ABV, dark gold and tastes warmingly spicy and rather green, in a good way. There's little by way of citrus, just a slight lime jelly bitterness, but more than anything the flavour put me in mind of gunpowder tea. Not what I was expecting from Centennial hops, but tasty all the same.

Journey's end was a short hop from The Roscoe at a place that's unlikely to catch up with its GBG record: BrewDog Liverpool. This is the biggest of the six BrewDog bars I've been to, and all the more comfortable for the ample seating. Just released a day or two earlier was Elvis Juice, an IPA laced with juices of non-Elvis origin. Orange and grapefruit, I think. It smells like a stiff and resinous IPA and tastes properly bitter: spiky, spicy and dank. The citrus adds a sweet fruit lacing to this, a complexity that doesn't feel tacked-on or out of place. Its mouth-watering acidity is preserved and it's all rather enjoyable, though at 6.7% ABV more of a serious beer than the name and ingredients might suggest.

Also new to the BrewDog line-up is Mashtag 2015, billed as a 10% ABV black barley wine. It's very black, and smells stouty -- dry and roasty, plus a big hit of vanilla from the added oak and, er, vanilla. As you might expect it's very boozy, but smooth and warming with that. The finish has a peppery piquancy and then the bitterness of high quality dark chocolate. For a recipe compiled by a public vote it all holds together very well indeed.

To finish, before a quick dinner and a sprint to the airport, Westbrook Gose, one of those beers I keep seeing pictures of on other people's Twitter but had never seen in real life. I decided to make this the day it stops bothering me. Beer ticking is really just a form of exorcism. So, 4% ABV, hailing from South Carolina, presenting just on the pale side of amber, with skeins of yeast floating through it when poured. It smells how seawater tastes: pungent yet refreshing, and the flavour blends the salt and sour elements really well. Coriander does seem to be the poor relation in modern gose. If I'd poured more carefully I might have got less of a yeast bite, but even that didn't prevent this from being beautifully invigorating and energising which, after this busy couple of days, was exactly what I needed.

I'd recommend Liverpool to anyone looking for an easy, short city break, though if you're coming from these parts it's probably best to wait until the exchange rate recovers. I really picked the wrong summer to make three beery trips to England...

The Alan Partridge Project

Last year I reported on a visit to a dire pub in what used to be rural England but is now just off the road to somewhere else. This week I went one further and found myself in a generic low-rent business hotel in the English midlands: exactly the sort of Travel Tavern that Alan Partridge used to live in. It was, of course, a real ale desert (how did he survive so far from his beloved Director's Bitter?), with the bar taps dominated by InBev products, including Boddington's. It's a very sweet, light keg bitter: unchallenging but still quite tough drinking. I stopped at one pint.

My trip was far from a total waste, however. With some careful planning I found myself with a couple of hours to spare in central Manchester. I had picked out a handful of pubs worth visiting, but never got past the first: the gloriously appointed Marble Arch. This quirky boozer is kitted out in steel-and-ceramic Victorian bling and boasts a curiously slanting floor throughout. Out back, the house brewery produces a range of cask and bottled beers, the latter available to take away. Everyone in the house was drinking Manchester Bitter, a shockingly pale yellow lager lookalike. The resemblance ends there, however. This has a strong fresh hoppy aroma and greets the palate with a lemony bitterness which would appeal to any witbier fan. It's a wonderfully refreshing classic bitter and, I can only presume, the sort of beer that Boddington's would like to be.

The house range also includes Stouter Stout, a very sharp, bitter, but creamy stout. The abundance of hops is there right from the nose and is carried through in the strong rich bitter flavours. For a stout this is just too tart to my taste: IPA dressed as stout and off-puttingly weird, despite the care and attention that obviously went into making it. The house also makes Ginger Marble, another very yellow ale. The clue's in the title here, but in case of doubt there's a sweet, candied ginger aroma first off. This is followed by a gorgeous back-of-the-mouth raw ginger burn on the first swallow, with a legacy of ginger nut biscuits on the lips. I think this is the best ginger-flavoured beer I've ever tasted and would make a superb aperitif. And every flavoursome beer the Marble Brewery produces is 100% organic: proof that most everyone else is just doing organic wrong.

Of the guest ales, Spitting Feathers caught my attention first. This is a "smoked autumn ale", thick and creamy with little foretaste and almost reminiscent of a nasty keg ale. The smoke comes through afterwards in a vague sort of way, after some unpleasant dry mustiness. My limited experience of smoked beer has led me to expect the full-on bacon flavour experience and you don't get that with this. Two guest taps were displaying clips from Scottish craft brewing's enfant terrible Brew Dog. When I asked the barman whether I should go for Hype or Buzz, he told me he'd sold more Hype that evening, so that's what I ordered. Again, this is a very pale affair but it more than makes up for it in texture and flavour. It's warm and hits the palate with a hefty bitterness. A heavy and filling beer, all-in-all, despite having a mere 4.1% ABV.

With a heavy heart I left the pub and headed to the airport. A little previous research allowed me to stave off the return to keg ale for a few more precious minutes. The online menu of terrifyingly cheery family restaurant Giraffe included, among the Corona and Tiger, Brooklyn Lager. This is an impressively amber beer with a hoppy aroma, smelling for all the world like the lighter sort of American IPA. On first sip there's a full body and a strong malty flavour, carrying through to a dry bitter bite at the very end. Brooklyn is a thinking man's lager, and not just because the brewmaster is now a published philosopher.

A delay to my flight meant the time eventually came to bite the bullet and approach the main bar, where Worthington's Bitter was the house ale. Unlike the Boddington's, this is properly amber coloured. It has a striking burnt corn flavour, liked singed tortilla chips. Flavoursome, but not really in the right way.

I feel Manchester definitely warrants further barstool-based research. It'd just be a question of tearing myself away from the Marble Arch.