Czech, mate

I am agog at the news coming out of the Czech republic from the beer blogosphere's correspondents there -- Evan, Velky Al and Pivní Filosof. It seems that the overweeningly lagered Czech market is starting to expand in fascinating new directions, and the results from the micros are impressive. My only first hand experience of this deliciously velvety revolution is the Kocour rauchbier I sampled in Copenhagen, and I liked what I had. A lot.

I can only pray, then, that Dublin's ex-pat hang-out, the Czech Inn, gets in on some of the new ale action. Though granted that's as likely as an Oirish pub in Barcelona or Bangkok stocking O'Hara's Stout.

Still, I'm encouraged to see that the pub appears to be taking steps to court more local business, with the rebadging (sort of) of two of the house beers. I don't remember which jaunty moniker they've given to Pepinova Destika, mentioned back here, but its stablemate Francinova Dvanáctka now goes by "Frankies". I'd been surprised recently by the sweetness of Pilsner Urquell and I found this one to be only very marginally less malty -- another full-bodied tasty pale lager selling for next-to-nothing.

A further indication of the local attraction of the Czech Inn came while I was ordering. An Irish chap came to the bar, perused the taps (an activity almost unknown in this country), and then asked where the dark beers were. "Upstairs", he was told, so that's where I got the next round in. "Dark" is a serious misnomer, as the darkest they were doing was Staropramen Master, an amber lager. It's not earth-shattering stuff, bittersweet with some good liquorice notes, but in a pub with such an array of pale malty lagers something vaguely different is always welcome.

While I was upstairs getting the Masters in for Thom and Mrs Beer Nut, I spotted Zlatý Bažant on the bar. I knew full well it was a mediocre Slovakian lager, but I figured it would be worth a tick. That's about all I can say for it: lighter of body and milder of taste than any of the Czech beers. There's not a thing wrong with it, it's just nondescript and very easy drinking, which I'm guessing is all that most of the clientele, both local and foreign, are after.

So this is about the best I can do for Czech beer in these parts. However, it seems there's never been a better time to visit the homeland.

"Kurva! Not him again!"

The beer menu in the Czech Inn rarely bears any resemblance to what's written -- often in biro -- on the keg fonts. Having ordered my lunch today I took a good long look at the menu and then the bar taps, supervised by the very patient barman who was single-handedly running the daytime shift in this very evening-orientated pub.

Between the Radegast and Staropramen, I spotted one I hadn't seen on previous visits, nor on the menu. "Pepinova Destika? What's that then?"
"It's a new Czech lager," came the reply. Good enough.
"I'll have one of those please."

It certainly looked the part when it was brought to my table: pure gold with a gorgeous fluffy topping of froth. In a proper Czech mug it would have looked even better, but never mind. There's a nice sparkle to it, accentuating the pilsner hops sharpness. The dominant flavour, though, is a kind of candy floss super sweetness. It's not a heavy, malty sweetness, nor any way cloying, but much much lighter. This sugary quality in no way detracts from what is, in essence, a no-frills drinking lager. Fluffy, but definitely not frilly.

Put with a plate of tender beef goulash made with a generous hand on the paprika plus a few inch-thick slices of knedlíky and you've got half an hour of unfussy pleasure.